


Maison Rouge

by WorryinglyInnocent



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Families of Choice, Found Families, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-18
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2017-12-15 10:23:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 78,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/848405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WorryinglyInnocent/pseuds/WorryinglyInnocent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Scared, alone and pregnant, eighteen-year-old Emma Swan stumbles into Storybrooke, to the steps of the Maison Rouge, an old vaudeville theatre. She is quickly welcomed into the family of eccentric oddballs who make the cabaret their home and she learns their stories: Stoical Granny, the manager and her granddaughter Ruby, bartender extraordinaire; conjuror Jefferson and his glamorous assistant, Alice. But she is most intrigued by Gold and Belle, the gruff MC and the wardrobe mistress who melted his frozen heart…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As with all my AU's, this is set nominally in the UK. 
> 
> For the purposes of this fic, Neal and Baelfire are two different people. Maison was begun before we'd had the Neal-is-Bae reveal.
> 
>  
> 
> **Warning: There will be mentions of past domestic abuse (male and female victims) in later chapters.**
> 
>  
> 
> This was originally intended as a chapter in ['An Infinite Number of Parallel Worlds'](http://archiveofourown.org/works/730137/chapters/1356396) but then it grew out of all proportions and demanded to be a story in its own right...

The bus had dropped her off at the edge of the town, because the driver had taken pity on her and let her ride to the next stop for free after she'd fallen asleep on the back seat and travelled twenty miles past where her ticket could take her. He'd been a nice guy, chatting to her as they sped through the night. Now, Emma felt horribly alone. And cold. And hungry. And since it had begun to rain, distinctly wet. She needed to find somewhere to sit and warm up, and eat, but it had gone midnight, and she doubted that Storybrooke, the sleepy little town she had alighted in, boasted any all-night fast food places. Emma tugged her thin jacket in a little closer around her and shivered in the autumn air before beginning to walk down the road towards the town. Maybe there'd be somewhere that she could spend the night before she started hitching to God-knows-where in the morning.

All the buildings were dark. Emma wasn't holding out much hope, until a light caught her eyes off the main street. She turned towards it instinctively, like a moth drawn to a flame.

The building was an old, Victorian one, large and foreboding. Moving closer, Emma read the sign in the driveway. _The Maison Rouge Theatre, home of traditional burlesque and vaudeville cabaret entertainment._ Emma's stomach twisted, and then grumbled with emptiness. Maybe they could help her? Burlesque was just a fancy word for stripping, wasn't it? Emma might not have many practical skills, but she could do that if pushed, which she was. Well, she could do it for the next few months, until she started to show. She pressed her hand over her abdomen unconsciously. Nowhere to go, no prospects, no hope, and a baby. Emma continued up the drive towards the theatre, looking up at the light in an open upstairs window that had attracted her attention. Soft voices could be heard coming from it.

"…I'm still reminded of the time Jeff's rabbits escaped and we had to spend four hours combing the auditorium for them. You'd think that three bright white rabbits would be easy to spot…"

Emma stepped up and tried the door. It was locked. The muted conversation above her seemed to lull.

"Did you hear something?" asked a female voice, the same one that had been talking about the escaped rabbits.

"It's just the wind, Rubes," someone replied. "You're paranoid."

"No, I swear, I heard someone trying to get in the main door."

"Well, Ruby's ears have rarely been wrong before," said another voice. "Quick, grab the shotgun, we've got intruders!"

"Jeff, don't be ridiculous."

At the word 'shotgun', Emma had begun creeping backwards down the drive away from the theatre as quietly as possible. Perhaps there was somewhere else in the town that she could stay for the night.

When the previously locked door opened with an ominous creak, she gave a muted squeak and attempted to hide behind something, but her tired, cold limbs refused to work and she stayed frozen like a rabbit in the headlights, looking at the woman who had opened the door.

She must have been in her seventies, but she had a little glint in her eyes behind her spectacles that belied a mind still young at heart. There was, Emma noted gratefully, no sign of a shotgun.

"Hello," the woman said. "Oh my poor dear, you must be frozen to the bone. Come in, out of the rain. Are you lost, love?"

"I, erm, I…" Emma didn't know what to say. "Yes," she finished feebly. "I saw the light, and then the sign, and I thought…"

"Oh dear, do come inside. It's a draughty old place, but at least it doesn't leak."

Emma stepped into the foyer of the theatre gratefully.

"Now, you come and have a cup of tea and we'll see if we can't get you back on the right track."

"I, erm…" Emma wished that she could think of something more intelligent to say. When she had come up to the door, she had expected anything but this kind, open hospitality. "Thank you," she said quickly, remembering her manners.

"It's no trouble, love. Now, where were you headed?"

"Nowhere," Emma admitted as the woman led her up the ornate central staircase. "I saw the lights and thought you might be able to help, and then I saw the sign, and I thought that maybe…"

The woman stopped halfway up the stairs and turned, her spirited eyes sad.

"You thought maybe you could earn a little here. This isn't a strip club, child, and it certainly isn't a brothel. It's a theatre, and we run it as such." She reached out and gave Emma's shoulder a friendly squeeze. "We all know a desperate soul when we see one," she said. "Perhaps we can't help you in the way you'd first thought, but maybe we can help in another way. You're among friends, child. You aren't the first person to have turned up on our doorstep in the dead of night seeking insalubrious employment. So we will help you, as much as we can. Now, let's get you upstairs and warmed up. What's your name?"

"Emma. Emma Swan."

"Well then, Emma Swan, you can call me Granny. Everyone does. How old are you, child?"

"Eighteen."

"And how far along are you?"

Emma's hand went back to her stomach, shocked. "How did you…"

"I've had three of my own, love, and six grandchildren. Believe me, I know." There was a twinkle in Granny's eyes as they continued to make their way up the staircase and she led the younger girl round into the bar area, the light of which Emma had seen from outside. A group of people – two men, three women – were gathered in one corner on a couple of moth-eaten sofas at one end of the bar by the open window.

"Ruby!" Granny called as they rounded the corner. "Tea! And make it hot! And open a new packet of biscuits as well." She turned back to Emma. "You look as if you could use them, love."

A girl, not all that much older than Emma herself, who had been sitting on the bar, hopped off it to rummage around for the necessary tea-making equipment.

"Everyone, this is Emma," said Granny. "Emma, this is everyone."

"Another stray, Mrs Lucas?" asked one of the men, the older of the two, with greying hair and a tired, worn face. The woman he had his arm around made a soft noise of disapproval without looking up from her book – "Rum, be nice" – but he continued to regard Emma with some degree of suspicion.

"You were a stray yourself, Mr Gold, at one time," Granny said sternly. "Do you have a problem with helping one of our own?"

Emma hung back as Granny tried to shepherd her further towards the others.

"It's all right," the older woman said. "We don't bite. Well, not much. Ignore Gold, we all do."

Gold raised an eyebrow in response.

"My theatre, Mrs Lucas."

"My business, Mr Gold."

The woman curled up next to Gold shook off his hold on her and came over to Emma.

"Pleased to meet you, Emma," she said. "I'm Belle. We'll help you out, don't fret. Here, let me take your jacket."

Belle peeled the sodden garment away from Emma's shoulders and Granny bustled back, wrapping her in a warm blanket and encouraging her to sit down on one of the sofas.

"This is my Ruby," Granny said as the girl bounded back from the bar, holding out a mug of tea and an unopened packet of chocolate biscuits with a grin. She gave a little wave.

"Welcome to Maison Rouge," she said. "You don't have to be mad to work here, but it helps. I run the bar," she added by way of explanation. "I was teaching myself how to do all the fancy cocktail shaking stuff, but Granny said I was spilling too much stock and made me give up."

Emma gave a weak smile. She hadn't thought that smiling would be very high on the agenda for a long time to come.

"Belle's our wardrobe mistress," Granny continued, and the little chestnut-haired woman waved from where she was carefully hanging Emma's jacket over the radiator. "Gold's our Master of Ceremonies, amongst other things."

Gold nodded his acknowledgement, never taking his wary eyes off her.

"And this is Jefferson and Alice."

The couple on the other sofa waved enthusiastically. Alice was bright and blonde and bubbly, and Jefferson was, although physically calmer, obviously just as mad.

"Jeff's a magician," Alice said proudly. "I'm his glamorous assistant."

That explained the escapee rabbits, then, Emma thought.

"Drink up," said Ruby, nudging her mug. "It'll be going cold."

Emma obediently took a sip, feeling it warm her from the inside out.

"Anyway, as I was saying," Jefferson began. "It wasn't my fault that Mary Margaret left the cage door open. They've got a spring in their step, my rabbits."

"And don't we know it," Gold muttered. Jefferson shot him a withering look.

Emma was content to stay on her sofa, watching the interplay between the six. Jefferson and Gold seemed to take turns at throwing veiled insults at each other, although neither really meant it, with Alice finding the whole thing hilarious and Granny playing referee. Ruby just observed, occasionally correcting a misremembered anecdote, and Belle seemed for all the world to be lost in her book, but knew exactly what to say at any given moment if her opinion was sought on something.

Finally, warm and slightly dryer, and full of chocolate biscuits, Emma trusted herself to speak to this ragtag group of friends into whose world she had been so unceremoniously pulled.

"So, where are the others?" she asked, wondering at the identity of the many people who had featured in their reminiscences but who did not appear to be present.

"They live elsewhere," Granny said. "They're good friends, but we're the family, the core."

"You actually live here? In the theatre?" Emma asked.

"Of course," said Jefferson. "We roost in the eaves like little birds."

"What he means," Ruby said, rolling her eyes on seeing Emma's worried expression, "is that the attics are converted into rooms. We live up there." She pointed to the ceiling. "Above the auditorium. There's no living room, though, so if we want to sit up and chat about the old times, we usurp the bar."

"Speaking of," Gold said as Belle gave a tremendous yawn, "I think we ought to be going up. Night all."

He reached round Belle and put a bookmark in between her pages. She smiled up at him before standing and giving a sleepy wave to the gathered party. "G'night."

Gold fished around under the sofa and pulled out a cane, which he leaned on to stand. "God, I hate these stairs," he muttered. "See you tomorrow."

His dark eyes gave Emma a final onceover, and the pair left them, disappearing round the corner of the bar and out of sight. Emma wondered at the notion 'opposites attract'. Belle, young and welcoming, and Gold, middle-aged and soured by life.

Ruby looked at her watch.

"It is late," she admitted. "We should probably all think about going to bed."

Granny nodded, and Jefferson and Alice left them with a reluctant goodnight. Alice came over and gave Emma a hug for good measure.

"Granny and Ruby'll see you right," she said. "Don't you fret."

Emma watched them round the corner, leaving her with just Granny and Ruby for company. She had to admit, she felt more comfortable with just the two of them, so open and unassuming.

"Come on," Ruby said brightly. "You can bunk with me. Ashley and Mary Margaret did when they first came too. Advantage of having a sofa in your room." She nodded round the corner of the bar. "The stairs are up here."

She led Emma round and through a door marked 'STAFF ONLY', with Granny making up the rear. The door opened onto a steep, narrow staircase that wound its way round into the attics of the theatre.

"The kitchen's through here," Ruby said, indicating the first door on the landing. "And the bathroom's at the other end of the corridor. Granny's in that room there, Belle and Gold are opposite her. Alice and Jeff are round the corner and up the stairs again. We're in here. Mind your head."

She pushed open the door opposite the kitchen and Emma stepped into a veritable treasure trove. The room was small, mainly being taken up with a double bed and a squashy sofa, but it was decorated beautifully, swathes of fabric draped from the rafters and posters of the theatre's previous productions from its heyday pasted over the sloped ceiling. The little room was illuminated with fairy lights. Once she'd finished gawping at the decor, Emma opened the backpack that contained all her worldly goods and gave a sigh when she saw that it was not, as it had been advertised, completely waterproof, and the few spare clothes that she had with her were completely soaked through.

"Here you go." Ruby had dived under the bed and pulled out a pair of pyjamas. "They'll drown you, you skinny thing, but they'll do."

Emma just nodded her thanks, her voice caught in her throat. She didn't know what to say. Granny and Ruby were being so nice, and they knew absolutely nothing about her. She could be a crack addict with the police after her, they could be harbouring a fugitive, but they didn't seem to care. They had recognised that she needed help, desperately, and unlike so many others, they had reached out to her instead of pushing her further away. They hadn't asked her what had happened, how she had ended up in her sorry state. They didn't focus on the past, only the present.

"Here's a blanket," Granny said, shaking one out over the sofa. "It can get chilly up here during the night, so I've got a few more."

Ruby grabbed her own pyjamas and toothbrush.

"Right, I'm going to nab the bathroom before Belle gets in there, she takes _years_."

The other girl skipped nimbly out of the room and Granny smiled.

"Goodnight, Emma. Sleep well."

As she changed into the pyjamas, Emma didn't know if she'd be able to sleep at all. She felt queasy, a mixture of too many biscuits on an empty stomach, pregnancy nausea and guilt. She didn't know how she'd ever be able to repay Granny and Ruby for their kindness. She curled up under the blanket on the sofa. Theoretically, she should have been terrified. She was in an old theatre with six strangers she'd known for all of two hours, who were disarmingly kind and welcoming. Emma had a few visions of secret cannibalistic societies and wondered if she'd wake up to find herself being eaten alive. Maybe they were a family of mad scientists who were going to use her for terrible experiments. What if… What if… What if…

But despite all the logical arguments for wariness, Emma – tired, coming down off her adrenaline rush and sick of fighting everything and everyone – hadn't felt as safe as she did now for a long time. She thought about what Granny had said.

_We all know a desperate soul when we see one. You're amongst friends._

Maybe it was simply a case of knowing a kindred spirit. If they had all been in Emma's position, or a similar one, they would know how she felt, they would want to help her to avoid her falling into the same trap…

Emma fell asleep before she could finish the thought.

* * *

**To Be Continued**


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As with all my AU's **Marina Tempest** is the name I give to Little Mermaid's **Princess Ariel**.

The sun was streaming through the voile curtains that covered the small window in Ruby's room when Emma woke in the morning. Nothing could be seen of the girl herself but a duvet-covered lump in the middle of the bed. Everywhere was comparatively quiet, but Emma could hear someone moving about in the kitchen opposite. Intrigued, and emboldened since the previous evening, she slid off the sofa and pulled her jeans on under Ruby's oversize pyjama shirt before creeping out of the room and into the kitchen. She blinked in surprise at the sight that met her. Alice was making breakfast in the room, humming to herself as she pottered about collecting bread and eggs. That in itself wasn't so surprising. What was surprising was the fact that there was a girl of about ten years old, wearing a blue school uniform, happily sitting at the table eating a boiled egg and reading a book.

"Hello," she said on looking up and seeing Emma hovering in the doorway, betraying no shock at all on seeing a total stranger about to interrupt her breakfast. "You must be Emma. I'm Grace."

Alice turned and waved from the stove.

"Morning, Emma. Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, thanks…" Emma turned back to Grace, who was looking at her expectantly. "Do you live here too?"

Grace nodded. "Yep."

"With your…" Emma faltered. If this really was a gathering ground for the lost and friendless, perhaps 'parents' wasn't quite a good idea.

"With my dad and stepmum," Grace supplied helpfully. "Jefferson and Alice," she added, for clarification. "It's good here. I get to stay up really late on Fridays and there's always loads of ice cream." She turned to Alice. "Can I have some now, actually?"

"Not for breakfast, young lady," Alice scolded. "Come on, you'd best be getting your shoes on, or you'll miss the bus." She pulled a jacket off the back of one of the chairs and put it on. "I'm just going to take Grace to the bus stop, but help yourself to some breakfast," she said.

Emma stepped aside to let Grace and Alice leave the room, completely bemused by what she had just seen, but before she could do anything else, her stomach gave an ominous jolt. The smell of the eggs in the kitchen, coupled with the stale taste of tea and biscuits still on her tongue from last night, was enough to make her feel sick again.

The kitchen sink was full of washing up water and plates, so she took off down the landing towards the door that Ruby had pointed out as the bathroom, one hand clamped over her mouth. The door was locked, as Emma found out when she crashed into it with her full weight, and she squeezed her eyes shut, breathing heavily through her nose to try and stave off the nausea. It didn't help.

Suddenly, there was a click and the door opened, Emma stumbling into the room.

"What the devil is..?" a Scottish accent began, and Emma groaned inwardly, it had _had_ to be Gold. "Oh Christ. In you come."

Emma just made it to the toilet in time, retching violently. She was vaguely aware of Gold shouting for someone, Ruby it turned out, as the next thing she knew, the other girl's gentle voice was soothing her, and her scarlet-tipped fingers were pulling her hair out of her face.

"It's all right, love, it's all right. Gold, give us your dressing gown, she's shivering." Emma felt warm towelling flop round her shoulders and closed her eyes again, resting her head against the cold tiles. "Granny warned me this might happen," Ruby said, her voice not exactly cheerful, but friendly and positive, assuring her that there wasn't a problem, everything was going to be all right, and they weren't going to turn her out on her ear because of this rather dramatic start to the morning.

The wave of nausea finally passed, and Emma sank down onto the floor half-wedged between the toilet and the sink. She finally forced herself to open her eyes and survey the scene in front of her. Ruby was crouching next to her in her pyjamas, half-smiling and rubbing Emma's arm. Gold was stood a little way off wearing a bath towel, his chin dripping shaving foam and blood onto the floor and his expression utterly incomprehensible. He seemed to remember he was bleeding at that point and moved out of his statue-like stillness, turning away and grabbing a handful of tissues to staunch the cut. Blearily, blinking away hot tears of embarrassment, Emma noticed a web of long white scars running across his lower back. Ruby followed her eyeline and her mouth twisted slightly.

"Feeling better?" she asked, a touch too brightly. "Come on then, let's leave Gold to his ablutions." She helped Emma off the floor and took her back down the landing towards her bedroom, keeping an arm around her shoulders. Once they'd arrived back at Ruby's room, the older girl coaxed her back onto the sofa and pulled the covers over her.

"You just rest," Ruby soothed. "I'll bring you some water."

Emma curled up and focused all her thoughts on not crying. She wasn't used to people taking care of her when she was sick. When she'd been very little, obviously her foster parents had taken care of her, but as time had gone on and she'd been shunted from place to place, often into homes with too many kids already, she'd become so used to coping on her own, muddling through. Suddenly having someone mothering her – someone who was only just older than she was, like a big sister she'd never known… It made her feel safe, which made her feel better, but it also left her feeling helpless. She'd always been fiercely independent, and it was only now that she didn't have to be that she realised how hard it had always been.

It also made her realise how vastly unprepared she was. If she couldn't even take care of herself, how the hell was she going to take care of a baby?

Ruby entered the room again, putting down a glass of water and a steaming mug beside the sofa.

"Ginger tea," she said. "Alice's mum's recipe. Works wonders for stomach upsets." She paused. "It's ok. You're in a new place, surrounded by strangers, and you're sick. It can't be easy. But believe me; we've seen worse. I know it's no consolation when you're feeling rotten, but no-one's going to judge you."

"I'm eighteen, pregnant and currently pretty pathetic," Emma mumbled to the pillow. "I bet you're wondering how I even made it here."

"That's not the point." Ruby's voice was firm. "The point is, you did make it here."

She didn't say anything more, letting the words sink in. Emma closed her eyes and tried to go back to sleep. Ruby's words held some comfort, but just not enough…

X

When she woke again, Emma found that there was no sign of Ruby in the room, although the bed had been made and the indents in the cushions showed that someone had been sitting with her and had only recently left the room. Emma sat up gingerly. Her nausea had long passed, but she was still feeling wretched. She had to get out; she didn't belong here amongst these lovely, friendly people. They were a family and she had intruded upon their quiet status quo.

She slipped off the sofa and folded the blankets up neatly, making to leave the room before realising she was still wearing Ruby's pyjama top and Gold's dressing gown. She quickly pulled on yesterday's shirt – her spare clothes still hadn't dried out – and tiptoed out of the room, looking around for anyone who might notice her flight. Emma brushed her teeth in the thankfully empty kitchen and made her way down the narrow stairs towards the theatre itself.

The bar area was empty, or so she thought, and she was halfway to the main stairs and the exit when a voice arrested her progress.

"What _are_ you doing?"

Emma turned to see Gold standing in the corner by the bar, leaning on his cane with that same unnerving stillness that he had shown earlier. She shook her head.

"I'm leaving," she said. "It's too… You're too… You're a family," she finished weakly, slightly overpowered by the depth of his gaze. "You're a family here, and I'm an outsider, I don't belong."

Gold took a few steps towards her, still stopping a long way short.

"Yes, we are a family. A weird family glued together from a hell of a lot of broken pieces, but a family none the less. And every member of this strange little family was once an outsider in your position, Miss Swan. The fact that you don't belong is the very thing that makes you belong here, with the rest of us that don't belong anywhere else. We recognise our own. Mrs Lucas wouldn't have taken you in if she hadn't seen that you belong here, with our cobbled-together family, where you're safe, and understood, and cared about." He gave a snort of cynical laughter. "What in God's name do you plan to do when you leave us?" he continued. "Not a penny to your name and a baby on the way. A very promising future." He shook his head. "Mrs Lucas has taken you under her wing and I'll be damned if I let you throw her offer of a home and hospitality back at her like this."

Emma looked over her shoulder at the staircase down to the box office and the main doors, longing to escape. She did well on her own, she'd survived this long, hadn't she? But Gold's words were true; she had no idea what she was going to do in seven months time when this baby actually arrived. She wasn't used to thinking that far in advance, and she'd already had doubts about her ability to cope once that morning.

"I don't want to be a burden," she said.

"You won't be," said Gold. "You'll work hard and earn your keep like everyone else; you don't get something for nothing. But don't think that we're going to let you walk out of here with no plan and no prospects. Fate brought you to our door, dearie, and she's going to keep you here. We don't care what you did before. We could all fill books with the tales of our pasts. For the present, you're one of us."

He moved past her, into the bowels of the theatre, leaving Emma in a quandary. She could still leave, she was perfectly at liberty to do so. But the fact that Gold, who had seemed so suspicious of her presence the previous evening, and whom she had interrupted so unceremoniously this morning, had been the one to tell her in his gruff, roundabout way that she was welcome and that they wouldn't let her go back to her hopeless, transient life without a fight, gave her pause.

"You were going to run off without saying goodbye. Honestly, I leave you alone for two minutes."

Ruby came out of the door that led to the apartment in the eaves, her arms folded but her expression showing no real anger. Emma glanced in the direction that Gold had disappeared in.

"Did you hear all that?" she asked Ruby. The other girl nodded.

"Yeah."

"He hates me," Emma said weakly. Ruby laughed and shook her head.

"Don't be silly, he's like that with everyone. Well, not Belle. If he hated you he'd have let you walk out that door without a fight." Ruby sighed. "Gold's not comfortable around strangers, he prefers to keep half a stage and the footlights between him and people he doesn't know, and when you know his story, you'll understand why he's so nervous and defensive. It took him at least two weeks to stop looking at Mary Margaret like she was going to break out a machete on him when she first came here."

"What about you?" Emma asked.

"Oh, he's not scared of me, more's the pity," Ruby said with a grin. "He's known me since I was eleven, he knows I'm no threat. As brusque as his manner is, he's one of us. He's been here for years, and he's harmless."

Ruby beckoned Emma over to the bar and clambered over it to pour her a drink.

"It's only pineapple juice," she said, placing it on the bar and encouraging Emma to drink up.

"So what is Gold's story?"

Ruby shook her head.

"Not mine to tell," she said. "Maybe when he's got to know you a bit, he'll tell you himself." She sipped her own juice, and the two girls fell into a companionable silence for a while. "A lot of people have come here seeking help and sanctuary. And in their own way, they always find it. Sometimes, the most beautiful things can blossom out of the most desperate circumstances. Come with me, I want to show you something. The band's practising, so the timing should be impeccable."

Ruby picked up her glass and bade Emma follow her into the auditorium. They came into the dress circle, best seats in the house. From their position they could see the band tuning up at the back of the stage. Gold was standing in the centre, peering up at the lighting gantry. He seemed to be counting the heavy bulbs chained there.

"Third on the left, Sean," he called up. Someone shouted something back down and the lights dimmed, leaving the stage in almost total darkness. The musicians seemed to take this in their stride and just kept playing.

"Gold used to be a stage lighting technician and flyman," Ruby explained, gesturing to the stage. "He only became our compere by chance, really. He had a bad accident – long before he came to us – and that meant he couldn't climb all the ladders to the gantries and get about in tight spaces in the fly loft anymore, so he just did odd technical jobs on the ground for us. He used to write a lot, though, and Granny saw some of his stuff and thought it would be good material for our MC. She liked it, it was her kind of humour – dry and bitterly sarcastic when taken one way and completely innocent when taken another." Ruby laughed. "Our old MC was a drunk," she said. "One day he didn't turn up; there was no-one else who knew the material. It took a lot of persuading but we managed to propel Gold onto the stage, and he's been charming our audience ever since."

"What happened to the other MC?" Emma asked.

"Last I heard, he was living in Antigua with a casino owner," Ruby said. "He never stayed in one place very long." She looked down onto the stage. "Look," she said. "I told you that beautiful things can come from dire straits."

The stage was bathed in dim light once more. Belle had joined Gold in the centre, and they were dancing a very slow waltz to the band's practice music, Gold leaning his weight on Belle rather than on his cane. He seemed the most relaxed that Emma had seen him, and Belle was smiling brightly. They were so incredibly in tune with each other; they had their own little ways of communicating that Emma couldn't quite catch.

The music came to an end and Gold released his hold on Belle, bowing low to kiss her knuckles. Presently the lights went wild, every colour of the rainbow twirling this way and that like a particularly psychedelic disco. Gold rolled his eyes.

"Sean!"

"Sorry!" called Sean from the gantry. "Hit the wrong button!"

The band began tuning again, but one of the sax players – obviously the nominate bandleader – stopped and looked round.

"Where's Marina?" he asked. "She said she'd be here at two. She's doing a new routine tonight and we've barely learned the music."

"She'll be fine, Seb," one of the other musicians said airily. "She always is."

"Hmm." Seb the sax-player was obviously unconvinced. "She'd do better if she turned up to rehearsals."

On the stage, Belle giggled at the disgruntled man before unceremoniously pulling Gold down by the tie, planting a kiss on his forehead and skipping off into the wings.

"Love. Such a wonderful thing when given a safe haven to bloom in."

Emma jumped at the voice; she hadn't heard Granny come in behind them.

"Now, Emma love, you and your luggage" –here Emma had to snort at calling her little backpack 'luggage' – "got a little bit drowned last night," the older woman continued. "Is there anything you want washing, as Belle's doing laundry now. You and Ruby can go and see her and maybe get you a few new things from her storeroom."

Emma's stomach twisted uneasily again.

"I don't want to be a burden," she repeated for the second time that afternoon.

"Oh, don't be silly," said Ruby, leading her and Granny out of the auditorium and down into the backstage area of the theatre. She paused. "We'll find something you can do. Everyone finds their niche here, contributes in some way."

"Belle didn't think she was good for anything until we discovered her prowess with needle and thread," Granny added.

"All I've done is waitressing," Emma admitted.

"Excellent," Granny said. "You can help Ruby behind the bar for a bit. She keeps complaining that she's overworked, don't you?"

"I never said I did it well," Emma muttered. "Got fired from my first and only job."

"You'll be fine, I'm sure," Granny said. "Anyway, there's always something that needs doing in this theatre. We'll find you something, even if it's something you didn't even know existed, or wouldn't think of. But first, let's see if Belle can't help you out with your wardrobe."

Belle was more than happy to help when they found her in the costume store, throwing Emma's clothes into the washing machine and bidding her to look through racks of old costumes in one corner in case anything took her fancy. Ruby and Granny made their excuses and left to go about their work, leaving Emma and Belle alone, going through the unused clothing.

"It's all going spare," Belle reassured. "If you want to borrow anything for a while until your own stuff's ready." She pawed through the racks and pulled out an extremely voluminous black velvet evening gown, holding it up against Emma, who made a face.

Belle laughed. "You're right, not you. We could easily make something from it though. It's been ages since I made proper clothes. Do you fancy a velvet mini-skirt?"

"I…" Emma didn't know what to say.

"If I don't make it for you, I'll make it for me." She pulled her tape measure from where it was looped around her neck and went to pass it round Emma's waist. "May I?"

The younger girl nodded. Belle's fingers were deft and she barely made contact as she measured, pulling away quickly.

"I know people don't always like being pawed by someone they barely know," she said as she jotted down measurements. "You're taller than me but you're slimmer in the waist and hips." She paused. "I can make pretty much anything as long as you give me enough paper for patterns. Of course, what I'm best at is luxury lingerie and Victorian tailoring."

Emma glanced around at all the costumes used on a day-to-day basis that hung around the walls: all feathers, sequins and silk; boned corsets and suspender belts, beautiful evening gowns, exquisite suits.

"Did you make all these?" she asked.

"Oh no, it would have taken me years. Most of the performers who only come for a season or two are well-travelled and bring all their own costumes with them. But I make a lot of them. I make all Rum's waistcoats. I might do him another one from the leftover here." She laid into the velvet dress with her pinking shears – it really could have clothed a small elephant with room to spare. Emma sat down at the table beside her.

"How long have you been here?" she asked.

"Coming up for three years now," Belle replied. "I still remember what it was like to be in your position, the odd one out. The family was a bit different then, of course. Jeff, Grace and Alice hadn't arrived, and Mary Margaret was still living here – you'll meet her later. But Granny, Ruby and Rum were here, like they've always been, and they made me welcome. Well, perhaps not Rum at first, but we won each other over in the end." She smiled at a private memory, and Emma thought it best not to intrude. It had already been made clear to her that everyone in the theatre had a story, and she guessed that she would learn them in due course, just as they would learn hers.

Whilst she had never been in any doubt that she was welcome in the theatre, it was in that moment that Emma first thought that she could see herself staying for the foreseeable future.

* * *

**To Be Continued**


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A slight in-joke between me and a friend, but **Mira** is the **Frog Princess** from the Russian fairytale **_Tsarevna Lyagushka_**.

Emma stayed in the costume room with Belle for a long time, listening to her anecdotes and learning theatrical terminology, until her stomach began reminding her that she hadn't eaten all day. Belle smiled and looked at her watch.

"Jefferson's probably cooking for Grace now," she said, "and I'm sure he wouldn't begrudge you a portion. We normally have a main meal at lunch and eat after the show in the evening, but we thought it best to let you sleep."

Jefferson was more than happy to offer Emma, and indeed anyone else who happened to enter the kitchen, some food, which was how she found herself being introduced to Leroy and Walter, Granny's odd-job men who did everything from fixing the curtains to acting as bouncers.

"Sometimes people get the wrong impression about this place," Leroy said darkly. Emma kept her mouth shut; she'd been under the same misappreciation herself. "Some folks want what we don't offer. You won't have seen much of Storybrooke yet, but we're a harbour town. Fishing trawlers mainly, but occasionally cargo ships dock out in the bay. Sailors can get… rowdy. We're just here to break up any unpleasantness."

Walter laughed. "You should have seen Dove when he was here. All he had to do was stand there and any disturbances would miraculously vanish. He was about seven feet tall and almost as broad." The last word became a yawn and Leroy smacked Walter round the back of the head.

"You are not falling asleep on the job again!"

"I can't help it! Warm kitchen, good food…" Here Jefferson bowed dramatically. Leroy just rolled his eyes and went back to his pasta. The conversation lulled as they continued to eat, and a few minutes later, the sound of footsteps thundering up the stairs towards the apartment broke the silence.

"Leroy!" came a voice. "The ticket printing machine's broken again!"

Leroy blushed bright red from his chin all the way over his bald head as the owner of the voice came into the room. Emma had to do a double take; for a moment she thought she'd come face to face with Mary Poppins, such was the woman's attire.

"I've tried switching it on and off again, and Mira's tried hitting it with her shoe, but nothing's worked. I think something's got jammed in the insides. And you fixed it in a jiffy last time, so I was hoping you could do the same again. Please, Leroy. You'll be my hero."

At this, Leroy positively beamed. "Of course, Astrid." He left the table and followed Astrid out of the room. Walter and Jefferson sighed, the latter burying his head in his hands.

"Astrid and Mira work in the box office," Grace said.

"I gathered," Emma murmured.

Grace shrugged, and then blithely added, unrelated to her previous sentence: "Dad, can I have some ice cream please?"

Jefferson nodded and replied without moving his hand. "Yes. But not Belle's mint choc chip. I covered for you last time she found it missing, but never again."

Emma stared at the door after Astrid and Leroy.

"Are those two, you know…" she began. "Together?"

"Not for want of us trying," Jefferson muttered. "They've been dancing around each other for as long as I can remember. We've tried everything to get them to admit their feelings for each other short of locking them in the broom cupboard and refusing to let them out until they say 'I love you, will you marry me?' It's painful to watch sometimes."

"Speaking of watches, Dad…" Grace was standing in the kitchen doorway with a bowl of chocolate ice cream. She tapped her wrist. Jefferson looked down at his watch.

"Crumbs, you're right. I'd best be getting ready."

Father and daughter left the room and Emma and Walter looked at each other.

"Looks like we've been left with the washing up then," Walter said mournfully. Emma laughed as she helped him clear the plates away. She had found it so easy to forget that this theatre was both a professional workplace where there were strict deadlines to be adhered to – curtain up at half-past seven, for instance – and a functioning home for some people. (And, from what she had seen, a second home for many more.) Jefferson juggled caring for his daughter with performing feats of magic, all under the same roof. As they washed the dishes, Walter continued to tell Emma stories of the theatre's dual life, of the extended family beyond those who lived in the eaves. Because of the long, anti-social hours that they worked, the theatre folk often stuck together, socialising amongst themselves, separate from the town. There was a hard edge to Walter's voice as he spoke succinctly of the divide in Storybrooke – those who were in involved with _Maison Rouge_ and those who weren't. Emma wondered at the opinions of the town's other residents. Perhaps everyone had the same misunderstanding of the place as she'd first had.

When the kitchen was clean again, Walter left to go back to his work, and Emma found herself meandering back down to the costume room, unsure where she would be welcomed or if she would be in the way backstage. Having not bought a ticket, sitting in the auditorium felt wrong, but at the same time, she had no desire to stay up in the little apartment alone. Ideally, she wanted to find Ruby and stick with her, but the other girl was nowhere to be found. She'd seen Granny a few times, but the older woman was always busy doing something and Emma didn't want to interrupt, so she had decided on Belle as the next best bet.

The costume mistress was not alone in her room. She was on her knees with a mouthful of pins adjusting the trim on the dress of another young woman, dark-haired, who was standing on a chair.

"…so no, sometimes I think George put some kind of curse on us when David split up with Kathryn," she was saying as Belle made sounds of understanding. She tailed off on seeing Emma in the doorway. "Hello."

"Erm, hi." Emma gave an awkward wave. Belle spat out the pins.

"Mary Margaret, this is Emma, she's new. Emma, this is Mary Margaret, the band's vocalist. She used to live here at the theatre too."

"Pleased to meet you, Emma." Mary Margaret held out her hand, unable to move off the chair whilst Belle was still pinning. Emma came over and shook it. She remembered what Ruby had said, about Mary Margaret sleeping on her sofa when she had first come, and she knew that she wouldn't be judged for her hopeless state by the other woman.

"Have you seen the show yet?" Mary Margaret asked Emma, who shook her head.

"No… I only arrived last night. I don't have a ticket."

"Oh, don't worry about that. Just sneak in the back with Astrid and Ruby. None of the audience will notice."

"Right, you're done," said Belle from Mary Margaret's knees. "I'll sew it properly later but it'll do for now." Emma looked up at the clock; it was nearly seven and the doors would be opening soon. The singer jumped off her chair, waved goodbye to Emma and Belle and left in the direction of the stage. Belle had barely had time to tidy up her pins when another voice entered the room.

"Emma! There you are!" Emma turned to see Ruby dash in, and she had to do a double take. Her new friend was wearing a crimson evening gown with a matching feather in her hair and elbow-length fingerless gloves. "I've been looking everywhere for you. I was going to sneak you into the auditorium."

"Great," Emma said, still transfixed by Ruby's attire. "You actually bartend in that?"

Ruby grinned and gave a twirl. "Like it? It's all about creating the right atmosphere. You've seen Astrid's box-office outfit, right? Anyway, the point is, we try and evoke the sense of glamour and period nostalgia as soon as the audience walks in. I've got to go and start setting up now, but if you come up into the bar when you hear the five minute warning call, we'll go in and you can see the show." Ruby paused and looked around the room. "Belle, has Marina come in yet? She didn't turn up for rehearsals and Sebastian was practically foaming at the mouth."

"No, I haven't seen her. But you know Marina. She's probably down at the docks going gooey over a new sailor. She'll come rushing in at the interval."

"I'm here, I'm here." A red-headed girl careened into the room past Ruby, panting. "Sorry, time got away from me and then I had to listen to another of Sebastian's 'why it's important not to miss rehearsals especially when you're doing a new act' lectures. Thanks Belle," she added as the wardrobe mistress handed her a coat hanger laden with a purple evening gown and various other accoutrements.

"So why are you late?" Belle asked.

"Another time, Belle. You can have all the gossip later. I've got to run. Oops, sorry Mr Gold!"

Gold raised an eyebrow as Marina squeezed past him in the doorway and ran down the corridor, dress streaming behind her.

"It's like Picadilly Circus in here today," he muttered as he came into the room. He was wearing a waistcoat of finely embroidered golden silk, and Emma wondered how long it had taken Belle to make. "Will you do the honours, please love?" He held out a hand to Belle and emptied a variety of stage make-up items into her lap before pulling up a chair opposite her. Emma tried to resist the urge to giggle, but it didn't work. Gold merely glared at her.

"Stop that." Belle grabbed his chin and turned his head firmly back towards her so that she could dab base over his nose. "It just takes the shine off under the lights," she explained to Emma. "He hates it."

"Honestly, I don't know how you women put up with having your faces coated in this stuff day after day," Gold muttered. "Well, at least I don't wear eyeliner like a certain magician who shall remain nameless."

"You know, if Granny had her way you would," Belle pointed out.

"Thankfully, Mrs Lucas values her life."

Belle tutted. "You, Rum, are a troublemaker." She fell silent as she concentrated on Gold's face, working some eyeshadow powder into his brows to give them more definition and smudging the barest hint over colour over his lips. "There, you're as done as you ever are." She batted his fingers as they came up to his face. "Don't you dare scratch it off! You'll end up stripy!"

"Thank you, love." Gold sat back and tied the cravat that had been hanging limply round his neck, and Belle brought over a red brocade frockcoat. She brushed off his lapels after he put it on, and stood up on tiptoe to kiss his ear.

"Knock 'em dead," she said.

"I always do."

Gold left the room and the two women had a few minutes to themselves before Jefferson arrived, looking rather flustered beneath the makeup.

"Don't tell me, Mary Margaret let the rabbits out again," Belle said.

"No, no, Flopsy, Mopsy and Hopsy are all fine. Grace named them," he added on seeing Emma's raised eyebrow.

"No she didn't," Belle whispered, but Jefferson was too agitated to notice. "What have you lost, Jeff?"

"My hat," Jefferson said, ducking down under the table to look for it there. "I can't perform without my hat, Belle! If Tara's taken it to use as part of her act again, I'll…"

"Jeff, Tara's doing her fan dance tonight. She won't have taken your hat."

"I need it!" Jefferson's voice whined from under the table. "When was the last time you saw it?"

"On your head during last night's performance," Belle said drily. "Jeff…"

"Maybe Mulan's got it," the conjuror interrupted.

"Jeff, be reasonable. She hardly needs it to work the curtains and make the announcements up in the fly loft now, does she? Now you're just being silly."

"Jeff!"

Alice's voice could be heard outside the costume room, and the woman herself entered a few moments later, wearing an eyepoppingly sparkly blue leotard trimmed with white feathers and ribbons. She was holding a black silk top hat.

"Jeff, your hat was where you left it last night, now come on, the five minute warning's about to go."

A shrill little bell rang through the theatre's backstage area, followed by a tinny voice.

" _Ladies and gentlemen of the Maison Rouge company, this is your five minute warning call. Beginners to stage please. Oh, and Jefferson, if you're still looking for your hat, Alice has got it."_

Jefferson, who had since extricated himself from under the table, looked up in the direction of the speaker on the wall from which the voice had emanated, rather sheepish.

"Thank you, Mulan," he mumbled. Alice rolled her eyes and dragged him off towards the stage.

"You'd better go and find Ruby," Belle said. "I'll be watching from the wings in case of any last minute wardrobe emergencies. Enjoy the show, and I'll see you after."

Emma left the costume room and made her way back up towards the bar area, where Astrid and another woman in similar attire whom Emma took to be Mira, the other box office lady, were shepherding patrons into the auditorium, ready for the show to begin.

"Ready?" Ruby came up behind her. "You'll love it."

After the last paying audience member had entered, Astrid ushered Ruby and Emma into the darkened auditorium before slipping inside herself and shutting the doors behind them. Mira waved goodbye, saying something about going home to put her pyjamas on and have her boyfriend feed her spaghetti carbonara.

The stage was pitch black and seemingly bare.

" _Ladies and gentlemen, please be aware that the Maison Rouge theatre operates a no-smoking policy, and the use of photography or recording equipment in the auditorium is strictly forbidden. Thank you for your co-operation, and please enjoy the show."_

Mulan's voice sounded out over the public address system. There was a moment of stillness and silence before the lights came up, revealing the band at the back of the stage with Mary Margaret perched on a little stool beside them, and Gold spotlit in the centre.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he began softly. "Welcome to the Maison Rouge, and the spectacle that awaits you here tonight, a glorious showcase of music, dance, striptease and magic…"

Emma was already spellbound.

* * *

**Slightly shorter than usual today, but this will hopefully be made up for in the next chapter, wherein we begin to learn some backstories…**


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my lovelies. Apologies for the wait, life and various other complications happened. Please enjoy the latest offering in spite of the tardiness.
> 
> In case anyone is interested, my mental image of Marina is Karen Gillan of Doctor Who fame, but feel free to see her however you want.
> 
> For the purposes of this story, Bae and Neal are separate people. Neal is only mentioned in passing and does not appear.

"Come on, Emma, wake up!"

Emma opened her eyes to find Ruby perched on the arm of the sofa, already fully dressed. She groaned and pulled the blankets back up over her head. It was her second morning at the theatre, and she was hoping that it would be slightly more successful than her first. She would admit, there were a few more things working in her favour this time round. The previous evening had been far more enjoyable, spent still on a high from watching the show and wondering at all the acts; learning more about the mechanics of the theatre as Ruby and Astrid provided odd bits of commentary in their little hidey hole at the back of the auditorium. Jefferson had joined them in the second act having performed in the first half and gone to tuck Grace in at the interval, and he had also provided helpful insights that had Emma struggling to contain her laughter and focus on the stage.

"Oh come on," Ruby said. "You've got to get up. It's Thursday, there's no performance, and Mary Margaret's invited us for brunch. She's a really good cook," the older girl added. "It was a shame when she moved out and stopped making lunch for us every day."

Reluctantly, Emma pulled the blankets down to her nose so that she could look at Ruby over the top of them. Brunch did sound like a good idea, especially as she wasn't feeling sick as a parrot for once. "I can show you round the town as well if you want. There's nothing extremely exciting, I must say. We're in the most newsworthy bit, if I'm honest."

Emma sat up on the sofa and hugged her knees beneath the blanket. "Walter said that the theatre's pretty notorious in town. You don't always get on with the locals."

Ruby snorted.

"We are locals," she said. "I've lived in Storybrooke my entire life. The theatre was here long before most of the rest of the town. It was a burlesque music hall before it was closed down in the 1890's and Granny just revived the tradition a hundred years later. But it's a small town. Small minds. We've spent so long fraternising with outsiders that we've become outsiders ourselves." She sighed. "Enough of that. Since several people who live in the town are employed here at the theatre, we don't have too many problems. The majority of the people are fine with having a burlesque theatre on the outskirts, especially once they pull up the courage to see a show and see that there's more to it than just women taking their clothes off. But there are a few who like to stir up trouble." She smiled brightly. "But we'll talk no more of them. I'm not having Mayor Mills ruining the thought of a perfectly good brunch. So come on, get dressed and we'll have a nice day out. Everyone else has already split so you can take as long in the bathroom as you want."

Won over at last by the prospect of brunch, Emma got off the sofa. After taking Ruby's advice and staying in the shower until the water ran cold, and throwing on newly laundered clothes, Emma found her friend sitting on the kitchen table, swinging her legs.

"Ready?" Ruby asked brightly. "Let's go."

The main town centre was only a short walk from the theatre, and Ruby spent the majority of it pointing out random points of architecture or quoting interesting but ultimately useless bits of town trivia. David and Mary Margaret lived about fifteen minutes into the town centre in an apartment above a bakery. Emma had met David briefly the previous evening, after the show, but he had been running around trying to find a home for a large coil of electrical wire at the time so it hadn't really been a proper introduction. David and Sean, in transpired, were in charge of lighting, with occasional help from Gold if something was beyond their expertise.

Mary Margaret was an exceptionally good cook; Ruby had not been exaggerating.

"You're lucky, Emma," she'd said as David cleared away the plates. "You've entered a community where the majority can list 'feeding people' as their main hobby. I have a new recipe for spinach lasagne that I'm dying to try out. You're welcome to come over any time and sample it."

Emma had politely declined. Lasagne sounded great, but she wasn't too enthralled by the 'spinach' part of it.

Ruby had offered to help David wash up, and Emma had been left alone at the table with the dark-haired singer.

"So…" she had begun, unsure of a conversation starter. Theoretically they were both in the same boat, belonging to the little crowd of lost and friendless who had come to the Maison Rouge having nowhere else to go. Seeing Mary Margaret, though, had given Emma some fresh hope at the point when she thought that she had been all out. Here was a woman who had been in Emma's situation but who had pulled through it, now living in a nice flat with a man she loved .There was something sad in her eyes though, when she looked at Emma, a tiniest glimmer showing that when she said she was fine and perfectly happy, she wasn't being completely truthful.

Mary Margaret had saved the conversation with an anecdote about Jefferson's wayward rabbits, and Ruby had dragged Emma off to show her the town and all her favourite places, which was how they had ended up by a slightly damp bench in the harbour.

It looked bleak in the grey weather, but Emma had no doubt that the docks would look much prettier in the summer time. She sat down on the bench beside Ruby and watched her breath curl into mist in the cold November air.

"My mum and dad used to bring me down here to watch the boats come in when I was little," Ruby explained. "It's pretty much all I remember about them, so it's always been one of my favourite places in town."

"What happened?" Emma asked. Normally she wouldn't like to intrude, but Ruby seemed to have offered the information as a conversation point.

"Car accident," Ruby said. "I was six; I don't really remember it so it's ok. It's just been me and Granny since then. But sometimes I just wonder what it would be like, you know? To go out there and have adventures. I've lived by the sea my entire life and I've never even been on a boat. Well, I've been on Leroy's but we never actually left the mooring stage so that doesn't count." She sighed. "I love it here. I love the theatre and I love the people. Inside that building, everything's great. So don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining about that. But this town… The atmosphere's so… oppressive. I don't necessarily want to see the entire world. I just want to say I've been somewhere. Dr Hopper's going to Barcelona for a conference in a couple of weeks; he promised to take lots of pictures for me."

Emma looked sideways at her friend, who was looking out to sea in the vague direction of Spain.

"Ruby, who's Dr Hopper?" she asked.

"Oh, erm, no-one," Ruby said, far too quickly. She was blushing as bright as her nail varnish.

"He doesn't sound like no-one."

"Emma!"

"Ok, ok, I'll leave it alone." She paused, fumbling for the previous conversation topic. "So, have you and Granny always lived in the theatre then?"

Ruby nodded.

"Yes. Many people have come and gone, but Granny and I've been there the longest. Well, Granny was there before I was even born, and I moved in with her after Mum and Dad died."

"What about your aunts? Uncles? Cousins?" Emma remembered what Granny had said on her first night about having three children and six grandchildren.

The corner of Ruby's mouth twitched. "We don't have any contact with them," she said. "They cut themselves off. They didn't approve of Granny taking on the theatre. They said that she was too old to start something so large with no experience, and that burlesque cabaret wasn't a business that someone like her should be involved with in the first place." She sighed. "My mum was the only one of her children who supported her, and moved down here to Storybrooke to help her. When everyone learned that she wanted Granny to care for me rather than either of her siblings' families, well, that was when things came to a head. I haven't seen my aunts and uncles for years. It would be nice to know how my cousins are doing though. All I remember of them is Quinn and I building sandcastles on Exmouth Beach when I was about three."

Emma thought about the story she had just been told, and tried to process the information in her head. Granny must have been running the theatre for at least twenty years, and it was still going strong. But there was something in the back of her mind, something Gold had said.

My theatre, Mrs Lucas.

"Doesn't Gold own the theatre, though?" she asked, puzzled. If he owned it, how could Granny have been there longer?

"Ah, you caught that. Yes, Gold legally owns the building, as of about six years ago. Theoretically we're all living there rent-free and he can evict us if he wants, not that he's going to." Ruby sounded remarkably confident of that fact. "But as Granny says, the business is hers. She built it up out of nothing and she gets the final say in everything."

Emma raised her eyebrows. Whilst she'd already pegged Granny as a tour de force, she hadn't been sure quite how influential she was.

"Why did she do it? Randomly decide to take on a theatre and open a cabaret?"

Ruby shrugged.

"To this day, I do not know. I don't think Granny does either. I think she was maybe styling herself as the next Mrs Henderson." Ruby laughed. "No, I think she wanted to throw herself into something new after Grandpa died, to take her mind off it, and this took her fancy. And once Granny sets her mind on something, she makes sure she does it well."

"I don't think that can be denied," Emma said. "How long has the theatre been going?"

"Twenty-three years," Ruby said. "It helps that the acts are always changing – variety shows are by their very nature transient. Some people stay for years, some only a few weeks as part of a larger tour. But it's always evolving. Jefferson's constantly developing new tricks. The dancers do new routines, the band play new music. Gold writes new material. Yes, we're survived pretty much everything the moral crusaders have thrown at us and we're still here to tell the tale. The only time we nearly closed was when… Well, that's a story for another time, and our Scottish knight in shining red brocade armour helped us out then." Ruby paused. "It's getting cold, we should probably be heading back. I heard Jefferson say that he was going to get Sean to jerry-rig the projector so that he could watch the football in ultra-widescreen on the back wall of the stage. We'd better go and see the devastation that's been wreaked."

"Right…"

"Oh, we've turned the auditorium into a cinema before," Ruby said. "That's not the problem. The problem is more that usually, it's David or Gold doing the electrical mumbo-jumbo. Sean means well, but… Well, you saw the disco lights during rehearsals yesterday. He's still learning, bless him."

They left their bench and were making their way back out of the docks when Emma saw a familiar face peer around the edge of a warehouse. She narrowed her eyes.

"Is that Marina?" she asked. The little red-head looked different without her thick stage make-up, wearing jeans and a heavy tweed coat rather than rhinestones and feathers covering the bare essentials. Ruby followed her eyeline and nodded.

"Yes. Marina sneaking around the marina. How apt. What's she up to I wonder?" She grinned. "Marina has a bit of a thing for sailors."

Marina was now watching them, and even from the distance between them, Emma could tell that she was wearing a 'damn, I've been rumbled' expression. Ruby gave the dancer a little wave. Marina shook her head and then waved them over with quick, nervous motions, still keeping a lookout on either side.

"You can't tell anyone you've seen me here," she hissed as they came round the back of the warehouse. "You know this town, it'll get back to Dad sooner or later."

Ruby raised an eyebrow. "Ok, our lips are sealed,… Why all the skulduggery, Marina? As if I can't guess."

Marina sighed.

"I'm meeting someone," she said. "Dad doesn't approve, so we're keeping it as quiet as possible."

"I thought it might be one of those." Ruby's face showed a certain degree of understanding, but Emma was completely confused. "What's his name and which trawler does he work on?"

"Eric Prince," Marina replied. "He works on the Wonder. And if you breathe a word of this to anyone, I will do something unspeakable to you involving Sebastian's saxophone!"

"Marina?"

Emma and Ruby turned to see a rather puzzled-looking young man standing behind them.

"Hi, Eric," Marina began sheepishly, "I was just…"

"We were just leaving," said Ruby. "Enjoy your date. Emma and I certainly enjoyed our walk, during which we didn't bump into anyone we knew. Right, Emma?"

"No-one," Emma agreed. Since she didn't know anyone else in town anyway, she wasn't likely to be spreading news of Marina's secret boyfriend around.

"Great. Thanks, ladies."

Marina and Eric disappeared off round the corner of the warehouse, and Ruby and Emma continued to make their way back towards the theatre.

"So… What was that about?" Emma asked. "What's with Marina's dad?"

"He doesn't approve of Marina dating fishermen."

Emma furrowed her brow.

"He does know what she does for a living, right?"

"Yes, of course."

"So he approves of his daughter being a striptease artiste, but not of her dating…"

"It's not the dating that he has a problem with," Ruby said. "It's the fishermen. Bob Tempest is a bit of an animal-and-fish rights activist. You see him outside the fishmongers' shops sometimes with a placard saying 'Fish Are Friends, Not Food'. He's all right really, but whilst Marina lives under his roof, she's under his rules. Marina adores him, but sadly, her taste in men tends towards those who work on the trawlers. She'll meet Mr Right eventually, and they'll sail off into the sunset and eat clam chowder all day…"

Ruby stopped in her tracks and her speech tailed off.

"Damn," she muttered. "Where the hell is Granny when you need her?"

Emma followed Ruby's gaze across the street. A woman was looking at them, watching them. A woman who radiated power from her sleek bobbed hair to her five-inch stilettos.

"Mayor Regina Mills," Ruby hissed. "Self-styled Queen of Storybrooke and leader of the moral crusade."

Mayor Mills smiled nastily and crossed the street towards them.

"Whatever you do, don't tell her your real name," Ruby whispered.

"Why not?"

"Her right hand man's a journalist. He'll find out your life story and have your dirty laundry over the front page of the Mirror before you can say 'Persil washing powder'. It'll happen anyway, but at least it'll throw her off the scent for a little while."

"Miss Lucas," the mayor said as she reached them, her expression benign and worryingly welcoming. "And I don't believe we've met. Regina Mills, Mayor of Storybrooke."

She held out her hand and Emma shook it firmly, with more confidence than she actually felt.

"Emma Cassidy," she said. As much as it pained her to say Neal's name as her own, it was the first one that came into her head.

"Welcome to Storybrooke, Miss Cassidy. I hope you enjoy your stay."

Her tone implied the exact opposite, and the emphasis on the word 'stay' made it clear to Emma that she was regarded as someone transient, passing through, never destined to belong in the community. The thought made her shiver. Emma was used to not belonging anywhere, but she was just beginning to feel that maybe the theatre offered more of a home than she had ever really known. .

"I presume you're currently residing at the burlesque house," Regina continued, her disgust barely disguised beneath a friendly veneer. Emma felt her hackles raise, but Ruby had already risen to the unspoken challenge in the words.

"Emma is living with us in the theatre, yes," she said coolly. "We've just taken her on as a new bar steward. We've had so many patrons recently that I simply can't manage on my own anymore."

Regina's returning smile was anything but charming.

"Really. Doesn't it get rather cramped in there, with all your 'staff' living in? One would think they had homes of their own to go to." She looked at her watch lazily. "Well, I would love to stay here chatting to you two delightful young ladies, but sadly time is against me. It was nice meeting you, Miss Cassidy. I hope you'll get to see more of our little town during your time here."

"I'm sure I'll have plenty of time to learn everything there is to know," Emma said, Ruby's snide remarks bolstering her own confidence. The mayor left them with a final cruel smile, and once the older woman was out of earshot, Ruby let out a long, shaky breath, clenching and unclenching her fists.

"God, that woman makes me so angry!" she muttered under her breath. "Granny can handle her better than I can; she doesn't take any nonsense from anyone."

"That seemed pretty good to me," Emma admitted.

"I was this close to punching her in that prissy little mouth of hers," Ruby growled. "Honestly, she doesn't even have to say anything, her mere presence has me foaming at the mouth." She sighed. "Sorry, I wasn't going to let Regina spoil a perfectly good brunch and now she has."

"Brunch was still great," Emma said. "You look as if you could do with a second helping to cheer you up though."

Ruby shook her head.

"No, I don't need more bacon. I know what I need. Hot chocolate. Come on, let's go home and get some."

The light was fading by the time they reached the theatre, and Emma was surprised to see none of the windows illuminated.

"Ah," said Ruby when Emma voiced her concern. "I think I might know the reason for that." She let them into the theatre and locked the door behind her.

"Hello?" Emma called through the gloomy foyer. "Anyone in?"

"They're all down in the basement." A torch was pointed in their direction then lowered, and Emma could just make out a young blonde woman balancing a baby on her hip. "The inevitable happened."

"I thought it might have done," Ruby said. "Ashley, this is our new arrival, Emma. Emma, this is Sean's partner Ashley. And this is Alexandra."

The baby gurgled on cue.

"Pleased to meet you." Ashley waved her torch in the direction of one of the 'staff only' doors in the foyer. "Come on, I need to rescue Sean."

Emma could hear Sean being berated as soon as the door was opened, or rather, she could hear a voice grumbling in unintelligible Glaswegian dialect that she assumed was Gold berating his subordinate. As they got down into the basement, Emma saw Granny, Belle, Grace and Alice all holding torches and shining them down at a rather complicated-looking mess of wires and electrical components, from under which Gold's legs were sticking out. Sean was sitting on a step-stool a little way off, doing an uncanny impression of a kicked puppy.

"Erm, what happened?" Emma ventured to ask.

"This one," Gold growled, one hand appearing from under the electrical mess and waving a soldering iron menacingly in Sean's direction, "managed to blow the power to the entire theatre."

"Ok… So he isn't even allowed to hold a torch now?"

"No," Gold said crossly. "He's an electrical hazard."

"I'm sorry," Sean said mournfully. "I thought I'd seen you and David do it enough times. It's only a projector, how hard could it be?"

Gold gave a resounding hmph and returned to his work. Presently there was a spark from under the wires and he gave a yelp of pain. "F…" he began, before Granny cut him off.

"No swearing in front of Grace and Lexy," she said sternly. It was at this juncture that Ruby and Emma came to the mutual conclusion that it was probably safer to leave those in the basement be, and they came back up into the main theatre, aided by Ashley's torch. As they were making their way back up the stairs, there was the crack of another spark behind them:

"OH F…"

"Gold! Young ears!"

"KNICKERS!"

Emma, Ruby and Ashley burst into fits of laughter.

"Poor Gold," the young mother said. "He might be there a while. It really was one of Sean's more spectacular blow-ups. Sparks and smoke and disco lights and everything."

She guided them through the theatre, up to the apartment and into Ruby's room, whereupon its occupant busied herself with lighting candles.

"It's almost like old times," Ashley said, settling down on Ruby's bed and bouncing Alexandra on her lap. "Seems like only yesterday I wandered into town, driven t distraction by my step-family and determined to make a name for myself. Of course, then Sean and Lexy happened in fairly short order afterwards so it didn't quite go as planned. But still."

Ruby blew out her final match and Ashley switched off the torch, the room now bright enough with the candles. Emma looked at the other blonde and her daughter, and wondered. In a year or so, that would be her. It was a scary thought.

Ruby began pawing about under her bed, finally coming up with a shoebox, decorated by a child's unskilled but enthusiastic fingers. She brushed off the dust and came over to Emma, sitting on the sofa beside her.

The box was full of photographs.

"This is my mum and dad," Ruby said, holding out a couple of snapshots. The familial resemblance between Ruby and her dad was clear to see. "And that's my cousin Quinn on Exmouth Beach. We built an amazing sandcastle and then I dropped my ice-cream on it. I was distraught, naturally, but all Quinn said was that it made a better flag."

Emma continued to look through the photos. The majority were of Ruby and Granny, occasionally some of other people involved with the theatre and the odd person she didn't recognise. She smiled at one of Grace asleep on one of the sofas in the bar, curled around three very fat white rabbits.

The final picture in the box, slightly dog-eared around the edges, was taken on the same bench that she and Ruby had sat on that afternoon; Ruby's mum and dad with Granny and baby Ruby. They all looked so happy, as if nothing was about to go wrong in their lives. The thought made Emma uncomfortably emotional and she put the picture back in the box, covering it with the others. She wondered what it would have been like to have loving parents, even if only for six years.

There was a knock at the door and Belle's head appeared round it.

"Rum's got the power back," she said. "We're watching the game in the auditorium, and Sean's been sent to get Chinese as penance. If you want in, he's taking orders now."

"Excellent!" Ruby bounced around her room blowing out the candles and pulled Emma out of the apartment towards the auditorium. "Special chow mein with extra chilli sauce!"

Emma laughed and let herself be dragged away. Whilst she may not have a real family of her own, the theatre was certainly providing a new family for her.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies again for the wait. I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.

Emma had been staying at the Maison Rouge for almost two weeks, and she was just about getting used to the theatre's routines. She had met all the staff, from the regulars who lived in the eaves and already considered her to be part of their adopted family, to Mulan and Philip in the flyloft whom she hardly ever saw on a night-to-night basis. The show didn't perform on Thursdays and Sundays, but at least one of the other cast or staff members could generally be found hanging around the around in the building, even on these days. She had been shown around almost every part of the theatre from top to bottom (apart from the rigs and gantries above the stage, as Granny had said that she wasn't insured and as such was a health and safety risk), and she was learning the ways of burlesque fast. The theatre folk had been nothing but welcoming, and Emma was beginning to feel a true sense of belonging.

So when Ruby asked her one day if she wanted to start helping out in the bar that evening, Emma felt confident enough to say yes.

"I don't have anything to wear though," she said, looking at the scarlet evening gown that hung on Ruby's wardrobe. Its owner rolled her eyes and pointed at her bedroom door and the way out of the apartment.

"Since when has that ever been a problem for us here?" she asked. "Come on. If I know Belle, she'll already have got something in the pipeline for you."

Belle didn't disappoint. As soon as they entered the wardrobe mistress's little domain, she held up a blue evening gown against Emma's frame.

"It's one of Ashley's old ones," she explained. "Just until I get time to go to the department store in the next town over and buy new fabric off the bolt. I've customised it for you; taken out the boning so it doesn't squash your tummy, and sewn up the side seam properly, added a few more spangles to hide the butchery."

"It's lovely," Emma said. It was lovely, the dress was beautiful. She just couldn't see herself wearing it. She'd always been more of a tomboy in jeans and boots; her skirts were straight cut rather than flounced, and she was fairly sure that she had never worn quite as much glitter on one garment before, even when she was six and everything she owned was pink and glittery. Because of course, every foster home she'd been in equated 'girl under ten years' with 'pink and glittery'.

They took the gown back upstairs to Ruby's room, and the older girl helped Emma do her hair and make-up. She looked at herself in the mirror, barely recognising her own reflection. She looked great, there was no doubt that Ruby's enthusing had its grounds in fact somewhere, but she didn't feel right. She didn't feel like herself.

"Ok, I've got to get myself ready now, so you go down to the bar and I'll see you in a sec. You do look fantastic, honestly."

Emma nodded, trusting herself to believe Ruby's words but not quite trusting herself to walk in the kitten heels she'd been loaned. She wobbled her way down the stairs and took up her position behind the bar to wait for her friend.

She was a little apprehensive considering the ignominious manner in which her last job had ended, but she was also determined to succeed this time. The theatre folk, especially Granny and Ruby, had been so good to her and she wanted to repay their kindness. If this was the way in which she could help best, then this was what she would do. Ruby, Alice and Belle had all worked wonders in boosting her confidence over the past fortnight, and Emma had come round to thinking that since her fortunes had turned for the better in the grander scheme of her life, maybe they could in her customer service skills as well.

The bar area was eerily empty, considering it served as the main living room area for the theatre's residents. (Alice, Jefferson and Grace had their own little sitting room since their part of the apartment was practically self-contained and only shared the kitchen with the others, but it was barely big enough to house the sofa and TV that were squashed into it.) The rest of the staff and performers were backstage or in the wings, going about their own jobs.

Presently Ruby came down, and the next twenty minutes were spent giving Emma a crash course in bar tending and cocktail mixology. She was just putting the finishing touches to a halfway decent mojito when Astrid came up into the bar from the foyer, signalling that the audience was about to start coming in.

Their first patron was unknown to Emma, but not to Ruby.

"Dr Hopper! We haven't seen you for a while. When are you off to Barcelona?"

"Sunday," the doctor said, blushing. He pushed his glasses further up his nose and sat down on one of the bar stools; Ruby placed a gin and tonic in front of him without having to ask him what he wanted. "How are you, Ruby?" he asked. "It seems you have a new helper."

"I'm very well thank you, Dr Hopper."

"I've told you before," Dr Hopper mumbled. "You can call me Archie."

"All right then. I'm very well thank you, Archie. This is Emma, she's new at the theatre."

"Pleased to meet you," Emma said as Archie held out his hand to shake.

"Dr Hopper – Archie – is a psychiatrist. His office is on the main street next to the bakery, and he's one of our most regular visitors."

"Yes, well…" Archie began, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, obviously embarrassed by something, but Ruby carried on regardless.

"Jefferson's got some new material tonight," she said. "I think he's finally worked out not only how to saw Alice in half, but also how to put her back together again."

Archie smiled, and he stayed smiling long after Ruby had bustled off to the other end of the bar to serve the next patrons. Emma immediately knew the reason why Archie frequented the show so much. She leaned over the bar so that she could talk to the young doctor without Ruby overhearing.

"So, how many times have you come to see the show just so that you can talk to Ruby?" she asked. "It must be costing you a fortune."

Archie nodded sadly. "How did you guess?"

"I'm very observant," Emma said. It was one thing she prided herself on. She noticed the little non-verbal signals people gave out; it helped her tell when she was being lied to. "And you're not the most subtle I've seen."

She thought back to her and Ruby's conversation on the bench in the harbour and the way that Ruby had clammed up when talking about the mysterious Dr Hopper, and the way she could interact so brightly and bubbly with him now. It was all an act, Emma could see that. Ruby was playing a part behind the bar just as everyone else played their roles on the stage, and that was probably the reason (or one of them) why Archie hadn't made a move. This Ruby, the Ruby he always saw by default, was happily aloof, the same bouncy soul with every one of her customers, and she wasn't showing any overt interest in him. If they continued in this vein, they would never get anywhere.

"For what it's worth, she feels the same way about you," Emma said casually. Archie looked up sharply.

"She does?"

Emma nodded. "I'm pretty certain. And like I said: I'm observant. She was talking about you the other day, and when she answered 'no-one' to the question 'who's Dr Hopper?' she was definitely lying."

Archie glanced over at Ruby and sighed.

"But she's so… She's so… _Ruby_."

Emma nodded her agreement. Ruby's personality had the potential to be overbearing, but she also had an enormous capacity for love and friendship, as Emma had found out in the past weeks.

"Ask her out on Thursday night," she said. "You've got nothing to lose."

Archie's gaze flickered between Emma and Ruby for a long time, weighing up the pros and cons. Emma had to leave him to serve another customer, but out of the corner of her eye, she saw him drain his drink and go over to where Ruby was serving.

The custom gradually picked up and Ruby and Emma ended up at a healthy level of busy until the five minute warning bell sounded and the box office girls started to usher everyone into the auditorium. Once the last audience member was seated and the doors were closed, Ruby threw her arms around Emma with a squeal.

"Archie asked me out!" she said happily. "I never thought he would!" She let go of Emma and took a step back. "And I have you to thank for it. Thank you!"

Emma shrugged. "Well, I just thought I'd grease the wheels a bit, you know?"

"I'm so glad you did! Thank you." Ruby hugged her friend again, and Emma smiled. Perhaps bar work – with a side of matchmaking – was for her after all.

X

The next day found Emma in the kitchen with Granny. It was the older woman's turn to make lunch for the collective residents (and anyone else who happened to be there and wanted to be fed) and she had seconded Emma's help. Before she knew it, Emma was peeling a veritable mountain of potatoes.

Granny cast a quick glance round the kitchen, as if to check they were alone, before she spoke.

"Now, Emma, I've been meaning to speak to you about more personal matters for a little while now."

Emma's hand went to her stomach unconsciously. Whilst she was still pretty flat to look at with her clothes on, when she lifted her shirt she could tell that the curve of her tummy was definitely growing.

Granny nodded, "I've noticed that you haven't been as sick in the mornings these past few days, but I still think it would be a good idea for you to see a midwife for a checkup if nothing else. You haven't seen a doctor since you first skipped a period, have you? You don't actually know how far along you are."

Emma shook her head guiltily. Her life being as transient as it had been since she had left the care system with no real place to go, she wasn't registered with a doctor and she didn't want to go to hospital unless it was a dire emergency. Granny didn't judge her though, she just patted her arm and smiled.

"I'll see if I can get you an appointment with Cara. She looked after Ashley when she was expecting Lexy, so she knows us."

Emma was grateful for Granny's foresight. This Cara woman, whoever she was, already knew about the theatre and its more unusual living arrangements, so Emma would not need to try and explain them nor feel shamed for her semi-homelessness. It was strange, and slightly scary, how quickly she had got used to thinking of the theatre as a home. It was so ingrained into her, after so many years of disappointment in foster homes, that nowhere was a true home. Every time she had ever felt at home somewhere, she was soon enough taken from it again, so she had learned never to think of anywhere as home, just as a temporary place to rest. The theatre had felt like home instinctively, and what was more, she _wanted_ it to, despite the little niggling voice in the back of her mind (a voice that sounded remarkably like Regina Mills) persisting in telling her that it wouldn't last, it never did.

Emma shook the thought away. She was home, for now, and she wasn't going to think about the future, when she might not be.

"Thanks, Granny," she said.

Granny just smiled and put the potatoes on to boil. Emma's role completed, she was at a loss for what to do; she suspected that Granny had only commandeered her services in order to catch her on her own for a private conversation. She left the kitchen and made to wander back down to the bar or the auditorium and see if she could be of use anywhere else, but before she could do so, something caught her eye.

Belle and Gold's bedroom door was slightly ajar. Of all the places in the building that she had explored with Ruby, this was one room that she had never seen as the door had always been closed, and Emma didn't like to intrude in the theatre's private spaces. Today, though, the door was a little open. Curious, Emma pushed it a fraction further and peeped inside to check that there was no-one about before inserting herself fully.

The room wasn't all that much bigger than Ruby's, but it boasted a quirky little window seat piled high with knitted cushions in varying shades of red and burgundy. The whole room was decorated in these dark tones, and it somehow managed to make it feel cosy rather than oppressive. It was more of a nest than a room – the cushions piled everywhere stood testament to that fact. A safe haven, Emma surmised. Somewhere in which Belle and Gold could shut themselves away and forget the world around them. Emboldened by the fact that no secret alarm seemed to have gone off to betray her presence, Emma took a step further into the room and looked around a bit more. The main feature was the bed, which had obviously originally been a four poster, but was now missing one of its posts as it wouldn't fit under the sloped ceiling.

A small wardrobe and an antique screen in one corner made up the rest of the furniture, along with a cluttered dressing table. In terms of actual beauty products, there were relatively few – a few choice make-up items, a silver hairbrush with real bristle, and some generic aftershave. Most of the space was taken up by photographs: Belle and Gold together in the auditorium, Gold in his full regalia and Belle wearing one of the evening dresses from the costume room; a wedding photograph of two people that Emma guessed to be Belle's parents – the woman looked too alike to the little wardrobe mistress to be anything but. There was also a snapshot of a much younger Gold with a baby in his arms. She'd heard Ruby talk about a son, but she hadn't enquired any further. Emma moved to pick up one of the photos, study it more closely, but something else arrested her attention. One corner of the dressing table was occupied by a large and obviously well-loved teddy bear, the fur worn and patchy and the eyes scratched and dull.

"Don't touch it."

Gold's voice from the doorway was a barely audible growl, and Emma whirled round, withdrawing her hand. The compere was standing completely still, his expression dark. "What are you doing in here anyway?"

"I'm sorry, I… The door was open…" Emma stuttered. She was beginning to feel dizzy as a result of turning round too quickly and she stumbled slightly as she moved away. Gold raised an eyebrow as he instinctively held out an arm to steady her.

"And you took that as an invitation?"

"I don't know, I'm sorry, ok?"

Emma could hear herself panicking, getting frustrated, and she could recognise the telltale quiver in her voice that meant she was about to start crying. She cursed her stupid hormones. Just when she had thought that she and Gold had reached a kind of truce, this had happened and upset the fragile balance.

"Sh, sh, sh." Gold's manner softened as she burst into tears, and he guided her over to the end of the bed, clearing away some of the cushions so that they could sit down. "I'm sorry I startled you. Head between your knees, there's a good girl."

The dizziness began to pass and Emma took a few deep breaths as Gold continued to talk.

"I forget how young you are, and the delicate condition that you're in," he said. "Your life has matured you beyond your years but you're still a scared teenager at heart. We all of us have different experiences and expectations of the world that make us the way we are. In my case, a grumpy old man."

Emma trusted herself to look up and dried her eyes on her sleeve. Gold's angry expression had dropped and he was looking more relaxed than she'd ever seen him with her.

"You can't be that old."

"I'm fifty, Emma. That's practically prehistoric in the eyes of you bright young things."

Emma looked across at the teddy bear, and the photographs, and suddenly it all clicked into place. Gold was comfortable with her now because he could assume the role of caretaker, parent; a role that he obviously had experience in. Granny assumed the same role with everyone naturally, regardless of age or gender, and Emma had never really given it much thought. She considered the way that Gold acted around Ruby, her contemporary in age, and concluded that again, here he seemed to fit in a more fatherly position, or at least a curmudgeonly uncle. Perhaps it was his knowing Ruby so young that had made the translation from strangers to tentative not-quite-friends-yet different with Emma.

She had never pried much into Gold's life, especially that which came prior to his coming to the theatre. He and Belle always seemed a little distant when they were together, in their own little world, and she had not had the courage to ask him directly. None of the other theatre folk would ever share a story that was not their own. She wanted to ask now, but she didn't want to rock the steadiness in their precarious little drifting boat.

"Whose is the bear?" she asked eventually.

"He was my mother's, then he was mine, then he was my Bae's. Now Belle and I share him."

"Bae," Emma repeated. She wanted to know more, but remembered the theatre's penchant for gathering those who had lost family.

"My son," Gold said for clarification. "He's twenty-four now, and head and shoulders taller than I am, but it still feels like only yesterday that he was knee-high to a grasshopper."

Emma breathed a sigh of relief at hearing that the boy – man – was still alive and she wasn't raking up any traumatic memories in that particular respect.

"Where is he now?" she ventured. Losing someone did not always mean death, and she hoped that whilst Bae was not present, he was also not lost.

"China, I think. Or perhaps Mongolia. Somewhere in Asia. He's travelling, having adventures. He's blessed with an infinitesimal courage I've never had. We get postcards now and again." Gold indicated the back of the door, where a world map was tacked, covered in pins and surrounded by picture postcards.

"Are these all the places he's been?" Emma asked, going over to the map.

"Yes. He's been travelling four and a half years now. He comes back a few times a year. I keep hoping he'll settle soon, but…" Gold shrugged and picked a postcard off the door, handing it to Emma. It was of the Great Wall of China. She turned it over to read.

_To Pops, Belle, Little Sis Ruby, Granny, and all at the MR._

_This wall is HUGE! I'm not joking! Having a great time, Shanghai awaits. Met a lovely girl named Ping who makes better noodles than Mrs Fa. Sorry Mulan, I know I said it was impossible to find better noodles than your mum's…_

_Hope you're all well,_

_Bae x._

_PS. Don't fight over the kiss. It's for Gracie._

"Thank you." She handed the card back as she heard Granny calling for her help again, and she left the room with a 'see you later' to Gold. It seemed to be the safest thing to say. Apologies had been made, thanks had been given, and all that was left to do was let water under the bridge. He gave her a small smile in return. Emma pondered as she made her way back down to the kitchen. A corner had most definitely been turned.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Cara Mallory** and **Dawn Stephens** are **Maleficent** and **Princess Aurora** respectively; Cara coming from _Carabosse_ , the evil fairy in the Sleeping Beauty ballet. I'll admit to a soft spot for Maleficent, I'm sad they didn't use her in the show more.

Granny had managed to get a cancellation appointment for Emma two days after their little chat, feeling that it was best to address her situation sooner rather than later. For her own part, Emma was unsure what to expect. She was trying to take care of herself and her unborn child as best she could , but she knew very little about the experiences of  pregnancy save for the facts she had tried to memorise on a few rainy afternoons in the bookshop before she left her previous town. It struck her again how woefully underprepared she was for the momentous task ahead of her – not only motherhood but the months leading up to it.

When she had first discovered that she was pregnant, Emma had weighed up her choices quickly, but not without measured thought. She was an adult, even if only by a few months, and she had known that this decision had to be made as an adult. After much deliberation, she had decided that she would keep her child. She would not let what had happened to her happen to her own baby. As the days had gone by, however, Emma had often found herself wondering how she was going to cope once her child was born. As much as she wanted to spare him (or her, but Emma was privately convinced that she was having a boy) the pain of feeling abandoned and unwanted in the care system, a life with her, constantly moving as she did, might not be of any better quality than the other option.

Even the permanence that the theatre had lately brought her was of little consolation. She was still sleeping on Ruby’s sofa, and she knew that the time would come, sooner rather than later, when that would simply not be viable any more as her body grew and she became more uncomfortable with it. And once the baby arrived, what then?

It was Mary Margaret who provided her with an answer on the morning of her midwife appointment. She and Sebastian were rehearsing in the bar whilst Emma took stock, and Mary Margaret took her to one side discreetly during a break for Sebastian to tune his sax. It was now no secret amongst the company that Emma was expecting, and thankfully no-one treated her any differently because of it.

“I know you’re happy here, and you feel safe and at home in the theatre,” the older woman said, “but if it ever gets too crowded or you need time away from it all, David and I have a spare room.”

Emma smiled. “Thank you.”

No more was said, but no more needed to be said. The two women understood each other perfectly. Presently the moment of calm was interrupted by Ruby bounding in and taking the clipboard from Emma’s grasp, and Sebastian blowing a particularly loud and dissonant note on his saxophone that made the hairs on the back of Emma’s neck stand on end.

Granny entered the bar behind Ruby and raised her eyebrows at Sebastian, blowing into his instrument for all he was worth and going quite red in the face from it. As he finished and stopped for breath, she casually wandered over to the windows and peered out.

“Congratulations,” she said drily. “You’ve managed to kill that pair of seagulls that have been nesting on the roof. They’re sprawled out on the ground, twitching.”

Sebastian gave Granny an unimpressed look and continued to play, albeit moderately quieter. The theatre’s matriarch gave a grin and came back over to Emma.

“Ready?” she asked. Emma nodded slowly. She was and she wasn’t. She was happy about the prospect of possibly seeing her baby for the first time, but she wasn’t quite sure about venturing into the outside world, where everything became so horribly real. The theatre was such a self-contained microcosm that it was easy to forget the harsh realities that lurked beyond the heavy double doors. Storybrooke did not boast a maternity unit, so they were going to travel ten miles to the nearest one, on the outskirts of the next town. Whilst it was not too far on a map, the bus journey necessitated two changes, so Granny had cheerfully informed Emma that they would be taking the car.

Since Emma knew that neither Granny nor Ruby could drive, she was rather intrigued as to how this was going to be accomplished.

She followed Granny out of the building – buoyed up by Ruby’s enthusiastic wave and request for an ultrasound picture – and they made their way round the back of the theatre, past the stage door to the yard where the bins were kept. Emma was surprised to find Belle and Gold there, but she was even more surprised to find them pulling a worn grey tarpaulin off the most dazzlingly yellow car that she had ever seen.

“Is this your car?” she asked Gold, staring at the beetle, utterly incredulous.

“No,” Gold sighed. “I can categorically state that this is absolutely not my car. If it was my car, it would be a BMW or a Cadillac, and it would most definitely not be custard yellow.” He unlocked the vehicle and waved the women towards it with a theatrical gesture. “Ladies, your carriage awaits.”

“So if it isn’t yours, but you are in possession of the keys…” Emma began. “Whose is it?” Although their relationship was less fractured following their discussion in the bedroom a few days prior, Emma still found that it was easier to interact with Gold when Belle or Granny, or both, were there too. They were the only ones who could get beneath his prickly, guarded exterior without effort, and they seemed to be the only ones he was comfortable letting in fully.

“My son,” Gold replied, his voice edged with a hint of good-natured parental despair. “Although whatever possessed him to buy a rust bucket this colour is beyond me completely.”

They left the drive and Emma found herself retracing the path that the bus had taken on her first evening in Storybrooke. Not that she really recognised the route; it had been pitch black at the time, but it felt strange to be leaving town again and knowing that she would be returning in a few hours’ time.

Belle rode shotgun whilst Granny and Emma squeezed into the back. Belle was coming along for the ride to visit the large department store where she could replenish her fabric and haberdashery supplies, and she spent the majority of the journey to the hospital entertaining them with her visions of the various designs that she was hoping to make for Emma, her imaginings becoming more and more outlandish with every mile. They reached the hospital in about half an hour, including dropping Belle off in the town centre. Gold stayed in the car reading the paper (in a toss-up between waiting in a hideous car and waiting in a hospital waiting room, the car was seen as the lesser of two evils), and Granny and Emma entered the maternity unit.

The midwife they were due to see, Cara, was running a little late, so they sat in the waiting room. Granny immediately busied herself with a knitting magazine and started jotting down ideas for bibs and bootees, and Emma was left with her thoughts. She looked around the room; all the other women there had their partners with them, and the sight made Emma’s stomach turn itself in knots. Granny seemed to sense her unease and gave one of her hands a squeeze.

“It’ll be all right,” she whispered. “Don’t pay any attention to anyone else. This is about you and your baby, and if anyone else in this room isn’t too wrapped up in their own thoughts and fears about their own children to start judging you, then more fool them. You’re going to see your baby soon. Focus on that.”

The time seemed to drag by whilst they waited, nurses and midwives coming in and calling other women, but never Emma. At last, a woman in a blue uniform with a mass of curly blonde hair pulled back from her face came over to them, exchanging a smile of acknowledgement and recognition with Granny.

 “You must be Emma Swan.” She held out her hand and Emma shook it. “My name’s Cara Mallory, and I’ll be your midwife. I’m what’s known as a caseloading midwife, so I’ll take care of you for your whole pregnancy and post-natal. I’ll mainly visit you at home, but obviously some of your appointments will have to be here at the hospital. If you’d like to follow me, why don’t we get started?”

Emma and Granny followed Cara out of the waiting room and down the corridor to an examination room that was ready and waiting for them. Emma quite liked the idea of Cara coming to the theatre instead of their having to rely on Gold or anyone else as a chauffeur, but at the same time, her old worries returned and she really didn’t want to know what the midwife would think of her sleeping on Ruby’s sofa.

“I saw the yellow terror out of the office window just now,” Cara said to Granny as she helped Emma onto the bed. “Is Gold still playing taxi driver?”

Granny laughed. “Oh, he likes it really. He’ll never admit it but he’s got a soft spot for Bae’s car.”

“Do you think we’ll see Belle in here any time soon?” Cara asked with a grin. Granny merely rolled her eyes; it was obviously an ongoing joke between the two women. The midwife resumed her professional demeanour and pushed Emma’s sweater up, running her hand over her slight bump and asking questions.

“Ok, Emma,” she said after filling in her notes. “You’re twelve and a half weeks pregnant, if all the timings are correct. Now, let’s take a look and see for ourselves how your baby’s getting on in there; this’ll also tell us more exactly how far along you are and help us set your due date. You’ll have two scans during your pregnancy, the dating scan at ten to thirteen weeks, and the mid-pregnancy scan at twenty weeks to check that everything’s progressing as it should.”

Emma nodded her understanding, anxious for it to start. She was actually really excited to meet her baby for the first time, far more excited than she had ever imagined herself being when she had discovered that she was pregnant. Cara’s good-humoured enthusiasm was infectious.

The midwife smeared some gel over Emma’s tummy, but before she could turn on the scanner, there was a rather sheepish-sounding knock on the door. Cara’s smile faded into an expression of annoyance.

“Dawn, is that you?”

“Yes,” was the reply through the door.

“Where have you been?” Cara asked, exasperated. “Your shift started at seven o’clock this morning!”

“I overslept,” Dawn’s voice said mournfully. “I’m sorry.”

“Again? God help us when you’re working nights,” Cara muttered. She turned to Emma. “Is it all right if my student comes in?”

“Sure.”

“Ok Dawn, come in.”

A young woman in pink trainee nurse’s scrubs came into the room, looking apologetic.

“Emma, Mrs Lucas, this is Dawn, she’s in training and she’s shadowing me for the next few months. Dawn, this is Emma, my newest lady. She’s twelve weeks along and here for her first scan.” 

Dawn shook Emma’s hand, and then Granny’s for good measure. It was obvious to Emma that Dawn was not all that much older than her – Ruby’s age, probably – and that she was also slightly scared of her supervisor. Cara, although good-natured on the whole, could evidently become a dragon if the circumstances called for it. She switched on the scanner and ran it carefully over Emma’s abdomen.

Emma was slightly disappointed – all she could see was fuzzy grey.

“All right. Dawn,” Cara said, “if you want to make yourself useful now that you’ve finally arrived, would you like to interpret the picture for us please?”

Dawn came over and began pointing out features on the monitor, and as she spoke, the fuzzy grey became more distinct in Emma’s mind until she could see the outline of her baby. She stared down at her stomach with a little wonder.

“Here’s the head, and the arms, and the legs, and I know that looks like a third arm but it’s actually the umbilical cord.”

“Definitely twelve weeks of development,” Cara said, looking from the screen to her notes and back again. “I’d calculate your due date to be the fourth of June.”

The fourth of June. It was next year, and it felt like a lifetime away, but it was only just over six months. Emma was a third of the way through her pregnancy already, and the thought was a sobering one to her.

She focussed again on the hazy picture, putting her worries to the back of her mind and just enjoying the experience, however surreal, of seeing her baby.

“Can you tell if it’s a boy or a girl yet?” she asked Dawn. The younger nurse shook her head.

“I can’t, it’s too early yet. But Cara’s had more practice. She might be able to tell you.”

Cara looked at the monitor closely.

“It is a bit early yet,” she said. “At this stage we’ve got a fifty-fifty chance of being wrong just like you have. We don’t normally say until the twenty week scan, when we can be more certain, and even then we’re wrong sometimes. But you’re in luck with the way your baby’s lying today, we’ve got a good view of the developing pelvis. If I had to hedge my bets I’d say you were having a boy, but I might be wrong.”

“I thought he was a boy,” Emma said. Cara smiled.

“Well, they do say that a mother’s intuition is normally the best indicator.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Granny. “I was convinced that Ruby’s Uncle Aaron was going to be a girl. I even got the midwife to check again in case she’d got confused with the cord. That’s why we called him Aaron. I didn’t have any boys’ names ready so I went for the first one in the book.”

Cara rolled her eyes.

“Trust you, Mrs Lucas.” She returned her attention to Emma, cleaning the gel off her tummy and handing her the ultrasound picture that Dawn had printed off for her. “We’ll be able to tell better at your next scan.” She looked at the calendar on the wall. “Probably around the fifteenth of January, but I’ll be seeing you regularly at the theatre at any rate.”

They made a date for Emma’s next check-up and spent some time talking about taking care of herself and the baby during pregnancy – which foods to avoid, which foods to eat more of, and whether it was okay to indulge a craving for six tubs of white chocolate marshmallow ice cream. Emma left the hospital feeling the most positive about her pregnancy that she had done since the blue line had first appeared. Cara hadn’t asked any awkward questions about the father of her child, and she hadn’t pushed the issue when Emma hadn’t been able to tell her if there were any genetic disorders in her family that they might need to be aware of. Between them, Granny and the midwife had managed to convince her that she could do this, because it was as if they didn’t believe in the existence of another option. They hadn’t assured her that she could do it, as the continual repetition of the words would have the opposite effect to the one they were trying to achieve. They just took it as a given. Their faith in her ability to cope and to reach out for the support that was offered to her was simple and absolute. In their eyes, she could not fail, and instead of the expectation pressuring her or making her fearful of the consequences, it bolstered her own self-belief. So her situation was not ideal; there were many logistical issues to be worked out. But she would succeed. Emma clutched her ultrasound picture close to her chest. She wouldn’t let them down, any of them.

Belle had returned from town by the time they got back to the little VW, and she and Gold were curled up together on the back seat under a threadbare tartan rug, reading. Granny raised an eyebrow and tapped on the back driver’s side window, next to where Gold’s head was resting. He started visibly, then rolled the window down on seeing who had interrupted them.

“It’s a good job you two have got both hands where I can see them, or I’d be getting worried about what kind of shenanigans you were getting up to under that rug,” Granny said drily.

Gold said nothing in reply, and instead addressed Emma.

“Everything go ok?”

“Yep.”

“Glad to hear it.” He got out of the car and moved to the driver’s door; Granny had already commandeered the front passenger seat so Emma climbed into the back next to Belle. After several minutes enthusing over Emma’s ultrasound picture, the wardrobe mistress reached over into the boot and began showing Emma her purchases, including yards of grey fabric with a subtle shimmer that she hoped to make into a dress for Emma to replace her borrowed one. It wasn’t too gaudy, and yet it was still interesting. Emma liked it, she felt that it suited her more than her current sparkly ensemble.

“Well, yours did begin life as a showgirl’s outfit,” Belle said with a smile. “But this one will be custom made for you. I’ll cut it on the cross with an empire line, put in some soft pleating so that it will grow with you and still look natural.”

Emma watched the way that Belle’s hands fluttered over the fabric. “Have you really only been dressmaking since you came to the theatre?”

“Yes. Once I start something, I like to be thorough, do it properly by the book.” Belle paused. “They call me a bookworm and it’s true, reading is my passion, but sometimes it’s not enough. I need to do something, feel useful and practical. I used to knit a lot, patchwork mostly. It works off nervous tension wonderfully.”

Emma remembered the dozens of knitted patchwork cushions in Belle and Gold’s room and wondered; Belle must had had an awful lot of nervous energy to use up in years gone by. She pushed her thoughts away from the mysteries of the past to focus on the present. Belle’s scarf had slipped slightly, showing a dark love bite on the side of her neck that Emma was pretty sure had not been there earlier in the day. However innocent they had looked when she and Granny had returned to the car, it was obvious that Belle and Gold had been up to some sort of ‘shenanigans’ as the older woman put it.

“Erm, Belle…” Emma discreetly indicated the mark and Belle hastily retied the scarf, blushing furiously. She remained a delicate shade of pink until they arrived back at the theatre, muttering something about turtlenecks as she rushed back inside. Granny stayed out to help Gold replace the tarpaulin over the car and shelter it from the rain that had begun, so Emma strolled inside, wondering where she was going to put her picture. Perhaps Ruby would loan her some wall space.

The bar was empty when she arrived in it, and Emma flopped down on one of the sofas to read the leaflets that Cara had given her whilst she waited for lunch.

After about ten minutes absorbed in her literature, Emma’s brow furrowed at a strange noise. It sounded like a sniff, but she was still alone in the bar. She waited, listening carefully, and it came again. Someone was in the bar, and their nose was running.

Emma got up quietly, not wanting to alarm the intruder, and she made her way round to the wooden counter itself, which seemed to be the source of the sound. She blinked a couple of times in confusion at what she saw before the puzzle pieces started clicking into place.

“Grace?” she asked in disbelief. “Shouldn’t you be in school?”

Grace, who was sitting cross-legged under the bar with her school backpack, froze in the action of reaching for the roll of industrial paper towel kept under the counter in case of spillages. Her expression was such that Emma could clearly see that yes, she was meant to be in school, and no, she really didn’t want Emma to tell Jefferson and Alice that she wasn’t. The little girl had been crying and looked ready to burst into tears again at any moment.

Emma had never been particularly good with children, possibly owing to the fact that she was only just out of her own childhood, and she had been forced to grow up quickly into an unforgiving adult world. She was only eight years older than Grace as it was. But the little girl whom she had never seen anything but happy and carefree was incredibly upset, and in a few years time, that might be her own child.

Emma tore off a large wad of paper towel and handed it to Grace before carefully settling herself on the floor beneath the bar beside her young friend. “What happened?”

“I got sent home,” Grace said. Her voice was small, and she was endeavouring to make herself as physically small as possible too, bringing her knees up to her chest and resting her chin on them.

Emma didn’t ask why. She’d been sent home in disgrace many a time during her tumultuous education. She looked sideways at Grace.

“Does it have anything to do with the rather impressive bruise on forming on your right temple?”

Grace managed a miniscule smile.

“The other girl came off worse,” she said.

“That’s what I like to hear. If you’re going to get sent home for fighting, at least make sure you win.” She knew that as the responsible adult here, she really shouldn’t be encouraging violence, but it was not Emma’s place to scold or censure. She wasn’t Grace’s mother or sister, she was just someone who had been in the same position and could commiserate.

“Rachel was being horrible again,” Grace continued, staring up at the spirits in their racks behind the bar. “Saying how we’re so poor because we can’t afford to live in a proper house, and saying social services are going to take me away.” Grace’s voice quavered on the last word, and Emma could see the fear, the entirely justified fear, behind the frustration and annoyance. “And she wouldn’t shut up, so Ava yanked her pigtails and I head-butted her. And when Mr Fredericks told us to apologise I said I hoped I’d broken her stupid nose, so he sent me to headteacher and she sent me home.” Grace huffed. “I hate school. Why can’t I stay here and do magic like Dad?”

“Because unfortunately, you’re ten,” Emma said, matter-of-fact. “And sadly, that’s not going to change.”

“It will when I turn eleven in March,” Grace muttered darkly.

“You’ll still have to go to school till you’re sixteen though,” Emma pointed out. “It’s law, and we can’t do anything about it. Believe me, I tried enough times.”

“I don’t need any qualifications!” Grace pleaded. “Granny and Leroy and Mr Gold and Ashley don’t have any!”

“I’m fairly certain that’s not true,” Emma said. She sighed. “Kid, _I_ don’t have any qualifications. Actually, that’s a lie, I passed maths, geography and IT so I’ve got three GCSE’s to my name. And honestly, you’re not going anywhere without them. I hated school too, so I always ran away and never went, and well, you don’t want to know what happened after. Running away doesn’t solve anything. I should know.” She put an arm around Grace. “I am seriously the last person in the world you should be taking advice from, so I’m not going to give you any. I’ll just say that I don’t want what happened to me to happen to you, or to anyone.”

“I don’t want to go anywhere with my qualifications though. I just want to stay here. I like it here. Why can’t people see that? Ok, so I don’t live in an ordinary house, but I live in a one-hundred-and-fifty year old theatre, which is miles better. How many people can say that?”

“Very few, I should imagine,” Emma murmured. Grace huffed and folded her arms, going silent for a long time before speaking again, in the same quiet tone she’d had when she first opened up to Emma.

“And I don’t want social services to take me away.”

Emma’s insides twisted, and she couldn’t talk any more.

Presently, the door from the apartment opened, and Grace shuffled further back under the bar.

“Gracie.” Jefferson’s voice came over the top of the counter. “Gracie, I know you’re under there. I had a call from Mr Fredericks. He was quite worried about you. You can’t just run off; when they say they’re sending you home it generally means ‘with a parent’.”

Grace gave a snort of disbelief at her teacher’s concern for her.

“He said he’d never seen you so upset, and your behaviour was most unlike you,” Jefferson continued. “Gracie, do you want to tell me what happened?”

“Hasn’t Mr Fredericks already told you?” Grace asked sourly.

“I’d rather hear your version, poppet.”

“Why would you believe me over him? He’s the teacher. I’m just a kid.”

“You’re not just a kid. You’re _my_ kid. Of course I’ll believe you. I’d believe you if you told me the sky was pink.”

Grace reluctantly clambered out from under the bar to face her father and tell her tale. Uncomfortable at being an eavesdropper, Emma stood too. Jefferson seemed a little surprised to see her, but he covered it well and concentrated fully on his daughter until she reached the end of her version of events.

“Oh Grace…” He held out his arms and, a little awkwardly, lifted her onto the bar. “You’re getting too big for this now. Oh poppet, no-one’s going to take you away.”

“They’ve tried.”

“And if they try again, we’ll make them go away again. And as for Rachel Morris, it’s clear that she’s absolutely bonkers. However, as much as I think she deserves it, as your father I can’t condone you breaking her nose. Next time she’s mean – although hopefully the nose will make her think twice – just tell Mr Fredericks. He’s a nice man, honestly, even if he did send you to the headmistress.” Jefferson wrapped his arms around his daughter. “Or tell me and Alice, and we’ll come and sort them all out. We’ll bring Granny’s shotgun if needs be.”

Grace gave a weak laugh against her father’s shoulder. “If breaking noses is wrong then shooting people definitely is.”

“You’re right, as usual.”

They stayed in their embrace for a long time, and Emma stayed watching them. She liked the picture, the scene presented to her, and she filed it away in her memory for use later, when her own baby was growing up. She had no real experience of unconditional parental love; she was learning her way through proxy and instinct, but she felt that she could do it. 

All the same, she couldn’t help but wonder at the past lives of her friends and mentors. What had happened to make social services threaten to take Grace away? _  
_


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Mentions of past domestic abuse.

It was a very odd dream. Emma was quite certain that it was a dream, because she was pretty sure that nothing like this had ever happened in her life thus far. To start with, she was driving the little yellow beetle, and her dream memory told her that she had stolen it. Secondly, Neal was in the back. Had she kidnapped him along with the car?

Finally, and the thing that had her most convinced that it was all a dream: they were flying. Emma looked down at the theatre below them, and she could just about make out Granny waving. Emma began to panic. She didn't have a driving licence, let alone a pilot's licence, and she wasn't altogether sure that the brakes would work if the car's wheels weren't on the ground. In the distance, someone screamed. Emma shrugged, clasping the steering wheel tightly in both hands. If she saw a yellow Volkswagen flying overhead, she would probably scream too.

The scream came again, much closer this time, and it was accompanied by Ruby's voice swearing.

Emma jerked awake to find Ruby getting out of bed and throwing on her dressing gown over her pyjamas.

"What's happening?" she asked.

"It's Belle, she's having..." But before Ruby could finish the sentence, another scream rang out through the apartment, closely followed by a roar of pain and a couple of choice profanities. "Jesus Christ!" Ruby left the room at a run, and Emma followed her, peering out of the bedroom door and down the corridor, which was illuminated solely by the light from Granny's wide open doorway. Ruby was hovering just outside Belle and Gold's room, and Emma could hear crying and Granny's soothing voice from within.

"What's going on?"

Emma turned to the base of the staircase up to the other rooms, and had to double take on seeing Jefferson standing there in just his underpants.

"I don't know." She glanced back down the corridor again, and her worried expression caught Ruby's eye. The older girl padded towards them.

"Belle's had a nightmare, one of her really bad ones," she said, her voice low and nervous. "Gold was trying to calm her down but she was in such a state that she fought and ended up punching him square in the face. He yelled out in pain, which obviously didn't help matters, and now everything's gone to hell."

Jefferson gave a muted groan and scrubbed one hand over his face. "Christ." There was silence for a long time before he spoke again. "I should probably go and put some more clothes on. You know where I am if you need me."

Ruby nodded her understanding and looked back to Belle and Gold's doorway. "She was doing so well," she murmured. "When she first came we'd wake up to screaming literally every night. But then she started seeing Archie and things got better. She hadn't had a bad dream for months before tonight. Oh, I was so scared that this would happen, when you get two people who both suffer horrific nightmares sharing a bed..."

Ruby broke off as Granny came out of the room with one arm wrapped comfortingly around Belle's shoulders. The younger woman looked so small and frightened, shivering in her nightgown, and Emma bit her lip. It was sometimes easy to forget, in the bright conviviality of the theatre, that these people all had pasts, lives before _Maison Rouge_ , and that they were mostly here to move on from those lives and start afresh. She could only imagine what had happened to hurt them in the way that they had obviously been hurt.

"Come on love," Granny was saying to Belle, her voice steady and soothing. "We'll get you a nice cup of chamomile tea to calm your fraught little nerves. No-one's angry, pet."

"I hit him," Belle was whispering, repeating it almost like a litany. "I hit him, I can't believe I hit him."

"Hush love, he's not cross with you, you know that," Granny said.

"I know, but still, I hit him..."

On seeing Belle in Granny's capable hands, Jefferson returned upstairs. Granny's eyes met her granddaughter's and she nodded in the direction that they had come from. Ruby obeyed the unspoken request without a word and Emma followed timidly, although Ruby bade her wait outside the door. She remembered what her friend had said on that first afternoon in the theatre. _He's not scared of me... he knows I'm no threat_.

"Mr Gold?" Ruby ventured, standing in the doorway.

"Go away, Ruby, please." Gold's voice sounded thick and nasal.

Ruby was looking close to tears herself.

"Please Mr Gold, don't shut us out. We just want to help."

There was a long pause and a sigh from within the room.

"I know, Ruby."

Emma heard movement and then the door closed in Ruby's face. It wasn't slammed in anger or frustration, it was closed quietly, as if in sadness or resignation. Ruby closed her eyes and rested her forehead against the door.

"I hate this," she muttered. "I absolutely hate this."

She moved off the door and came over to where Emma was leaning on the wall, sliding down it until she was sitting on the ground, her knees drawn up. Emma followed suit.

"I don't hate _this_ ," Ruby continued, gesturing around herself to indicate the immediate present. "I don't hate Belle waking us all up at three in the morning screaming the place down. I don't hate Gold having a crisis of confidence and putting all his barriers up again. I hate who caused all this in the first place. I hate that people are so fragile, so breakable, and that there are some who take such great pleasure in stomping all over them and smashing them into little tiny pieces, so that even if they manage to pick themselves up and put themselves back together again... People, they're delicate as porcelain. The glue makes them stronger, stands as testament to their having survived being shattered, but if you look close enough, if you put pressure on the stress fractures, you can still see the cracks where they've been broken. And no-one who knows them afterwards, although they're strong and they've survived, will ever see them without those cracks, will never know them unharmed and whole." Her eyes flickered between the kitchen and the room she was sitting outside. "That's what I hate."

The bedroom door opened again and Gold came out. He looked a fright: blood dribbling in parallel lines from his nose to smear over his chin and hands, and a dark stain pooled on his pyjama t-shirt. He gave Ruby a tiny nod of acknowledgement but she'd only got halfway off the floor before he'd locked himself in the bathroom.

Ruby gave another sigh.

"Could you get Jefferson please?" she asked Emma.

Emma nodded and got up off the floor, padding down the corridor towards the stairs.

When she got up to the little garret where Jefferson, Grace and Alice lived, she found the whole family on the little sofa together, watching the TV with the sound turned right down, Grace cuddled in between her parents. As soon as he saw Emma’s head above the level of the stairs, Jefferson seemed to know that he was needed and what for, and he stood and followed her without her needing to ask.

On their way back past the kitchen, Emma risked a peep inside. Belle was sitting at one end of the table with a mug of tea in her hands. She seemed to have calmed down and she was no longer crying, but she still hadn't regained her colour. At the other end of the landing, Jefferson rapped on the bathroom door with his fingernails.

"Gold, it's Jeff. Can I check your nose isn't broken?"

The lock clicked and Jefferson slipped inside.

"Tell Belle I'm ok," Gold's voice said.

"You know, the only person who's going to convince Belle that you're ok is you," Jefferson said.

"I don't think that's a good idea." There was a pause. "I yelled at her, Jefferson. I was swearing a blue streak if I remember correctly."

"No." Jefferson's voice was calm and firm. "You yelled because you were in pain and you swore because your nose started gushing blood everywhere. Did you yell at Belle? No, you just yelled, full stop. And yes, it scared Belle; she'll always be scared when people shout around her..."

"Emma, could you give me a hand please?" Ruby poked her head around Belle and Gold's doorframe and beckoned her inside with one latex-gloved finger. She was in the middle of stripping off the blood-soaked bed linen and clearing up the pile of red-stained tissues on the floorboards.

"I think they'd appreciate not having to come back to this scene," Ruby said, before adding, "could you put fresh pillow cases on please?" She seemed less melancholy now that she had something productive to do, Emma reflected as she watched Ruby attack the blood spots on the mattress with upholstery cleaner. Together they finished putting the room to rights and Ruby gathered up the messy sheets.

"I'll put them to soak in the bath in a minute," she said, just as Jefferson popped his head around the door to give them a thumbs up, indicating that the world was getting back on an even axis again. Ruby went to dump the sheets in the bathroom and Emma followed her out, seeing Granny come out of the kitchen and Gold - now minus bloody shirt - enter. She made out the words 'Belle, my darling, I'm ok', but nothing more.

Ruby left the bathroom and returned to her bedroom; Granny followed her, stroking her granddaughter's hair where it fell down her back. Emma sensed that it might be better to leave them be and she unconsciously followed Jefferson. He smiled.

"You're quite welcome to come and finish watching Sabrina the Teenage Witch with us if you want," he said. "Thank goodness it's Saturday tomorrow, well, today I should say." Emma shook her head. Just as she didn't want to intrude on Ruby and Granny, she didn't want to intrude on Jefferson's little family unit either. In the aftermath of the night's dramatic events, it made sense for people to group and gravitate towards their own little safe spaces, and Emma was fine with that. She wandered down towards Ruby's room; what she really needed was a glass of water but she wasn't sure that she should interrupt Belle and Gold in the kitchen. She looked inside. Gold was sitting at the table with Belle in his lap, pulled in close against him, his face buried in her hair. They were neither of them moving or speaking, but it was clear that each understood what the other needed. Emma wondered if they were cold – Belle in her strappy nightie and Gold with no shirt – and she padded back down towards their bedroom to collect the patchwork quilt that hung folded over the bottom of their bed. Belle looked up as she re-entered the kitchen and draped it over the back of her nearest chair, just within reach, and the older woman gave her a small smile and mouthed her thanks.

Emma got herself some water from the bathroom sink in the end, and stayed staring at her reflection in the mirror above the basin for a long time. Her hair was hanging limply around her face and there were dark circles under her eyes. For once the image in the glass was a pretty accurate depiction of how she felt – tired, scared and unsure. She sighed; she couldn’t stay staring at the mirror all night. Emma made her way back to Ruby’s room and pushed open the door a fraction. Ruby was curled up on her bed with her head in Granny’s lap, Granny stroking her hair.

“It’s just so unfair,” Ruby was saying, her voice small but still betraying her utter frustration.

“I know pet, I know,” Granny said. “Sometimes bad things happen to good people, and that’s life, and it’s horrible, but there’s nothing we can do. We can’t change what’s past, my love. We just have to focus on the positive, the present. We have to take heart from the fact that despite everything that’s happened in the past, Belle and Gold have managed to move on, and they’re here now, and they’re happy and surrounded by people who love them, and they found each other – and they understand and love each other. And we can take strength from the fact that their love is true and pure, because they see each other’s cracks and love in spite and because of them.”

“But they deserve more,” Ruby sniffed. “They shouldn’t have to see the cracks. There shouldn’t _be_ any cracks! Ok, so things have turned out for the best now, but they’re never going to be perfect. Belle is always going to have nightmares, Gold is always going to be nervy and ready to run, they’re both always going to be scared of rekindling memories of that awful past. And they deserve perfect after everything they’ve been through.”

“Love is never perfect, Ruby,” Granny sighed. “That’s what makes it so beautiful.”

Presently, she glanced up to see Emma hovering behind the half-open door and she beckoned for her to come in, patting the space on the bed beside her. Ruby looked up from her intense study of her fingernails and managed a little smile as Emma entered the room fully. Granny put her free arm around Emma’s shoulders without a word, pulling her in close.

“I’m sorry you had to witness all this with no warning, Emma,” she said. “We should have made you aware that Belle does suffer violent nightmares sometimes. But she’d been doing so well for so long… Oh dear, you’ve been with us less than a month and all this drama unfolds.”

“It’s all right,” Emma murmured. “I don’t mind. I know that this place and the people here aren’t exactly conventional. I’m not, either.” She paused. “What did happen to Belle before she came here, though? I know her story’s her own, but…” She had an idea, from the things that Ruby and Granny had said, from the way that Belle and Gold behaved, but she didn’t want to jump to conclusions.

“Let’s just say that Belle and Gold share an understanding that I pray no-one else will ever be party to. Especially you girls, but it’s not something that I would wish on anyone,” Granny said. “They both know what it’s like to be hurt, physically hurt, by someone who claimed to love them.” She sighed. “I remember, just after you came, Emma, you asked if Belle and Gold were married, and we told you ‘no’ and quickly changed the subject. They are not, because they are both still legally married to other people, and neither of them want to have anything to do with those past lives again.”

Emma nodded; it was as she had suspected. She would learn the details in due course, if and when Belle and Gold decided it was time to share their stories with her, but for now she had enough knowledge to allow her to understand the events that had just transpired.

Granny squeezed her shoulders and Emma was grateful for the way that the older woman had included her in the family moment without thinking.

“But we have to remember that although there are shadows in the past, the future is bright. So with that happy thought to keep us going, I think it’s probably best if we try to get to sleep again. The show must go on, and we don’t want anyone keeling over behind the bar now, do we?” Ruby giggled and Emma took that as a sign that her friend’s melancholia was dissipating a little. She returned to the sofa and snuggled back under the blankets, watching Granny say her goodnights and leave the room.

Ruby stayed staring at the ceiling for a long time, her usual demeanour still dampened, and Emma did not want to break the silence. She was just drifting back off to sleep when she heard Ruby’s voice mutter ‘this definitely calls for bacon sandwiches for breakfast’.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can only apologise for yet another long wait between updates. I hope you enjoy nonetheless. :-)

The next day found the theatre subdued despite it being Saturday and the most popular night. Emma was hardly surprised considering the events of the early hours, and she was thankful that the rest of the crew and performers didn’t ask too many questions about the quiet mood. Perhaps Granny had warned everyone. Belle and Gold seemed to have recovered from their ordeal, but they kept themselves to themselves, spending most of the day in the costume room whilst Belle worked on Emma’s new gown. Emma for her part remained in the bar, watching people going in and out and up and down as she polished the glasses. By the time the house doors opened, the brightness was returning to the theatre, and Ruby’s grin and stream of chatter were once more present as she adjusted the feather in her hair. The prospect of her second date with Dr Hopper had heightened her spirits; she was very much looking forward to seeing his pictures of Barcelona and hopefully learning some Spanish. Or at least, more Spanish than ‘dos cervezas por favor’, which was the current extent of her knowledge. It was telling, Emma thought, that whilst Ruby could claim to be able to speak several languages, her vocabulary in all of them was strictly limited to the field of bartending. She could order a beer in at least six different European dialects. Through her easy banter with the customers at the bar, she found out their countries of origin, and every time she came across someone whose mother tongue was something other than English, she would ask them how to order a beer in their native language, and she was keeping a note on one of the order pads behind the bar.

Emma was glad to see her friend back to her usual bouncy self after their eventful night; in truth it had unnerved her to see her vivacious friend so upset. Ruby was the kind of person whom nothing ever really got down; except the mayor of course, but she seemed to be a special case, trying the patience of all but the calmest of people – even Walter, who was so laid-back he was virtually horizontal. (And, Ruby had muttered, given the number of occasions on which he had nodded off on the job, literally horizontal most of the time as well.)

Yes, by the time the bar was opened and the patrons were arriving in full force, Ruby was completely back to her usual charming self, and Emma let her friend provide the atmosphere whilst she stayed quiet and focussed on not dropping anyone’s order down their front. She moved over to the far corner of the bar, away from the taps where the majority of people congregated, towards a man who was sat a little apart, watching the bustle from a distance. He had obviously been missed in the melee, out of Ruby’s direct eyeline as he was, and Emma came over to serve him. As she was pouring his San Miguel, he spoke to her.

“That’s a lovely pendant.”

Emma looked down at her chest, where she could just see the drop of her pendant below her chin. To be honest she hadn’t really thought that anyone would notice it; it was somewhat lost in all the rest of the spangles of her ensemble.

“Thank you,” she said.

“What is it?” he asked.

“A swan.” Emma knew better than to lean in closer to let him get a better look; although he seemed to be perfectly respectable, there was no telling what he might try to grab if it was within grabbing reach. Whilst Ruby’s was a legitimate evening gown, Emma’s was a remaindered showgirl’s dress that had been designed for the sole purpose of being taken off, and she although she wasn’t self-conscious in that respect, she wasn’t naïve either.

“You’re new here, Miss Swan,” the man said as she took his money and passed over his beer. “I haven’t seen you round here before.”

“I’ve… recently arrived in the town, yes,” Emma said. “And it’s Emma. Emma Swan.”

“Hmm.”

Somehow Emma didn’t think that the sound was made in appreciation of the beer, and she took a slight step backwards towards the centre of the bar and the other customers, something about the man unnerving her.

“Have you come far?” he asked. “Storybrooke’s a strange place to end up. Out of the way. Not exactly a tourist hotspot.”

“Elchester,” Emma said warily in reply. “Now, I really should be going, there are other customers.”

“Of course, of course. You should get back to work, as should I.”

The stranger smiled, and Emma did not at all like the flicker of triumph that passed across his face. Suddenly, Ruby’s voice cut through her thoughts.

“Sidney Glass, what a surprise. Have you actually bought a ticket this time or did you just sneak in for the booze and the gossip like normal?”

Emma twisted to see her fellow barmaid standing with her hands on her hips, wearing a benevolent smile that did not reach her cold eyes. Although her tone was jovial to the casual eavesdropper, there was no mistaking the hint of menace when one listened closely. Sidney merely raised an eyebrow and finished his beer before leaving the bar out of the main doors past the box office.

“Who was he?” Emma whispered to Ruby.

“Someone who’s well on his way to becoming the town drunk,” Ruby muttered back, easing a corkscrew into a bottle of wine and bidding Emma fetch some glasses. “He’s Mills’s right hand man; runs the local paper. Wannabe private eye struggling to get out of a failing editor.”

Emma felt something inside her twist. He had her name, he had where she had last come from, and if he was an investigative journalist, that would be all he needed. The uneasy feeling that had begun when she’d talked to him only got worse, spreading like ice through her veins.

She scolded herself for her paranoia, but she couldn’t help it. What if Regina had sent Sidney on a recon mission to try and find out about her, the latest addition to the theatre’s ranks? Everything that she had been running from would be brought back to haunt her, and be revealed on the front page to the people who had loved and trusted her without asking any awkward questions.

Despite Ruby’s happy demeanour, Emma found it hard to muster up any enthusiasm for the rest of the evening, and instead of watching the show, she went straight to bed.

She couldn’t sleep, though, and the rest of her night was spent churning over what had happened earlier in the bar, and what might happen come Monday and the printing of the morning papers…

X

The last time she had tried to sneak out of the theatre unnoticed, Emma had found herself waylaid before she had even got out of the bar. This time she had actually managed to leave the building, although she wasn’t quite sure what she was going to do now that she was out. The bus stop was probably a good idea, especially since she had put off her departure until Monday morning only because there were no buses on a Sunday.

Emma made her way down the theatre’s long driveway towards the town, and thought about the note that she had left on the sofa for Ruby to find when she woke up; at least she wouldn’t be accused of leaving without saying goodbye. She didn’t look back at the theatre, scared that if she did so she’d want to turn straight round and go back, and she knew she couldn’t. She had become too attached, Emma knew that now. She had had enough disappointment in her life to ever believe that something so good could last, but she had hoped that perhaps this most recent spell of good luck could have lasted perhaps a little longer. She had spent the entirety of the previous day agonising over the decision to leave or not, and trying to pass her melancholy mood off as just a side effect of her pregnancy. She wasn’t exactly sure how successful she had been, but it was too late for that now. The decision was made.

Emma remembered what one of the other girls at the home had said when she arrived back with her backpack after yet another foster family hadn’t worked out.

_Emma Swan, a proper lucky charm_.

She brought disaster in her wake, Emma had always known that. Nowhere she had ever been was quite the same again thanks to her, and she had to leave before it happened again. She cared about the theatre and the people who lived there, and she wasn’t going to bring them bad fortune like she always did.

When she got to the bus stop, she found that the next bus out of the town wasn’t for another two hours, and she couldn’t really hang around that long without breakfast. In leaving early she had been hoisted by her own petard. At least it was early enough that there weren’t many people about. Emma turned and began to walk towards the corner shop to find something to eat.

“Fish are friends, not food. Fish are friends, not food… oh, hello Emma.”

Bob Tempest was marching up and down in the street outside the still-closed fishmonger’s with his battered placard, chanting his usual litany. Normally Emma would have smiled and chatted to him about Marina’s latest escapades on the stage, but she didn’t have the heart this morning.

“Hello, Mr Tempest.” She moved on past him, omitting to mention to the older man that he had toast crumbs in his thick, bushy beard.

“I say, are you going on a trip?” he asked, evidently having caught sight of her backpack.

“Sort of,” Emma said. She was going on a trip. A long one that she wasn’t coming back from. She pushed open the door to the corner shop and was immediately faced with the newspaper and magazine stands, which were holding several copies of the local paper. Emma toyed with the idea of looking inside to see the damage, and finally decided that she’d rather know. She snatched up one copy and flicked through it, searching for her name and finding it in large print on the centre pages. A few choice phrases caught her eye: ‘troubled teenager’, ‘implicated in several misdemeanours’, ‘seducing older men for money’ and she’d read enough, shoving the paper roughly back on the stand and feeling her face begin to flame. She was moving towards the confectionary section for some kind of a makeshift breakfast when she heard a familiar voice talking to the cashier and she froze.

Jefferson was standing at the counter, chatting happily with the woman ringing up his purchases – a half-kilo bar of Dairy Milk and the dreaded newspaper.  Emma wondered if she could hide, but it was too late. He had turned and was walking straight towards her.

“Morning Emma,” Jefferson said. “You’re out early. I was just picking some things up on my way back from taking Grace to the school bus.” He paused. “You’re rather heavily laden for a trip to the corner shop,” he observed, raising an eyebrow at her backpack. “Might your sudden desire to cart all your possessions around the town with you have something to do with this?”

He held up the paper and Emma turned away guiltily. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“It’s a long story,” Emma muttered. “And it’s probably all in there anyway.”

“You remind me of someone. My daughter has been rubbing off on you.” Jefferson’s smile was sly as he gently steered Emma out of the shop, the paper tucked under his arm. He passed her the chocolate. “You have that. You’ve more need of it than Alice at the moment. Don’t tell Grace I let you have chocolate for breakfast or she’ll never let me hear the end of it.”

Emma let herself be guided along in the direction of the harbour. They soon reached Ruby’s favourite bench and Jefferson sat down, patting the damp wood next to him before taking out the paper and calmly reading Sidney’s exposé. Emma perched nervously beside him, watching his eyes skim over the tightly packed words. When he had finished he looked over at Emma, then back at the paper, and then raised one eyebrow.

“Well, there’s only one place for this.” He balled up the paper and tossed it towards the bin by the seafront, missing by about a foot. He sighed and got up to place in the receptacle properly, then furrowed his brow. “Drat, I wanted to read the rest of that. Ah well.”

Jefferson came back over to the bench and sat down again before turning his full attention to Emma.

“So what actually happened?” he said. “I’ve got time. The show doesn’t start till seven-thirty. We’ve got nearly twelve hours. Although if it does take twelve hours we might have to stop for lunch.”

Emma gave a weak smile, and told her tale. It was strange, finally pouring her heart out after being at the theatre for a few weeks already with no-one knowing the circumstances that had led her there. Everyone had always been so accepting of her presence without her past, and she was sure that Jefferson would not have asked her for the saga had he not already learned part of it through the paper. And he was so open, and calm, and non-judgmental, and he was treating her like a second daughter… It was easy to open up to him. About the foster system and trying to survive in it, then outside it; not being sure whether she hated the system or the life that came after more, when she had been practically abandoned to fend for herself just because she had reached the arbitrary number that denoted a readiness for adult life. Her many altercations with the law during her tumultuous education and rebellious early teenage years. And finally, falling in love with an older man who had vanished into the ether, leaving her pregnant and on her final warning with the police.

When Emma had finished speaking, Jefferson leaned back against the bench.

“And you felt the need to run away because we were going to find out that?” he asked incredulously. “If you were a fugitive on the run from justice having committed a quadruple homicide coupled with a penchant for bashing little old ladies over the heads for their pension money, then I might understand your reaction, but a couple of cautions for shoplifting? That’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing, though,” Emma began. “It’s lots of little things that all add up and keep on adding up, and if anything else goes wrong now that’s it, and…”

 “Emma!” The sharp tone in Jefferson’s voice and his firm grip on her shoulders put a swift stop to Emma’s incoherent spiral of thought. “Breathe.”

Emma did as she was told, taking a few long breaths to calm her nerves. Jefferson gave her a small smile on seeing her begin to calm.

“Believe me,” he continued.  “No-one, and I repeat no-one, is going to think any the less of you for having a history with the police.”

“But,” Emma began again, but Jefferson shook his head to stop her, and continued speaking himself.

“I have been cautioned, I have been arrested, I have been tried and found guilty. Emma, I have been to prison. If we’re comparing criminal records, having a few cautions is nothing compared to what I’ve done.”

Emma blinked, taken aback and unable to speak for a few moments.

“You’ve been to prison?” she repeated.  “What did you do?” Perhaps it wasn’t her place to know, but if Jefferson had volunteered the information, he would have to be prepared for her to be inquisitive.

“I served nine months for fraud and false accounting. I started working my magic with my tax returns instead of just on the stage.” Jefferson released his grip on Emma’s shoulders and sat back on the bench beside her, looking out to the sea. Emma stayed looking at him.

“Is that why social services wanted to take Grace?” she asked, things beginning to make sense in her mind.

“In a manner. It’s a long story. I haven’t always a magician.” Jefferson sighed. “I’m a magician first and foremost, but it’s not an altogether steady job, as one might call it. After Grace was born I took more regular work in between gigs but still kept all my equipment. It was just after Grace’s mother died, that I started. I’d been taking care of her whilst she was ill, you see, so I hadn’t been working. It didn’t really feel like I was doing anything wrong. It was my money, after all, I’d earned it, and I didn’t see why I had to give so much of it back to the government. Things were tight and I needed every penny I could scrounge to look after Grace. It felt like no-one was hiring in the town, and magic wasn’t top of my list of priorities as my assistant had just died and I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to get a new one. So I clawed back a hundred pounds here and there wherever I could.”

“What happened?” Emma asked.

Jefferson laughed, but it was a genuine laugh, with no bitterness in it.

“I got caught,” he said. “That’s normally how these things end. The judge was very lenient; I think he must have had kids himself, and he understood that I was only doing what I did for Grace’s sake. But I still had to go to prison.”

“What about Grace? Did she go into care?”

Jefferson shook his head. “No. That was where Alice came in. We’d been friends a long time – she’d been my first assistant when I started on the stage – and she knew about my situation. She’d helped me through Sophie’s death. She’d always been there for me and she was so angry when I was caught and she realised what I’d been doing because ‘for God’s sake Jefferson, you could just have told me and I’d have helped you out!’ What can I say, I’m a proud fool. When it all came to a head, she said she would take care of Grace whilst I was away. And over the next year, we got closer, until we ended up being the family we are now.”

Emma followed his gaze out into the bay but there was nothing to be seen, no trawlers on the horizon, not even a bird in the sky. There was obviously a lot more to be told, and she waited to see if Jefferson would elaborate. When the rest of the story was not forthcoming, she decided to probe for herself. Since the rest of the theatre now knew all about her and how she had ended up in her predicament, she wanted to know the stories behind the rest of the residents, but she could understand if they were reticent. Jefferson had obviously gone through the mill, as had Belle and Gold, and even though Ruby had grown up with the theatre in that sense and had not found it like a lost soul, she still had traumas in her past that she had to live with; lost parents and familial rifts beyond her repair.

“How did you end up here?” she asked Jefferson. “At _Maison Rouge_.”

“Debt,” Jefferson replied simply. “After I came out of prison, I wasn’t exceptionally hireable. No-one wants to employ someone who might end up cooking the books and helping themselves from the till, so to speak. I got in a lot of debt, including to some less than above board lenders. In the end I decided on a clean break, and Alice decided to come with me. That was the point when I knew I was in love with her. She’d been helping me out as much as she could, and I think from the moment I was found guilty she said ‘well, we’re in this together now’. I had a choice between selling pretty much everything I had left, or selling off all my magic equipment, which could still serve me as a livelihood.”

Emma laughed. “I thought a magician never sold his secrets.”

“He doesn’t. Why do you think I ended up living in a theatre with no furniture to my name? It was Alice who got us in touch with Granny, through a friend of a friend. A magician she’d worked with once got in contact with her and told her that there was a cabaret in Storybrooke where one of his old assistants was working as a burlesque dancer, and they might be looking for a magician for a season or two if we were interested. He put us in touch with Tara, who introduced us to Granny, who immediately took the three of us under her wing. We sold everything, cleared the debt and haven’t looked back. That was a year ago.”

  “And… social services?” Emma asked tentatively. Jefferson raised an eyebrow and gave an airy wave over his shoulder in the direction of the town.

“That was all Her Majesty the Mayor’s doing. After it came out that I was a, well, we all know what I was, she decided that she knew what was best for my daughter, and apparently staying with her loving family wasn’t it. Oh, we came out of it all right in the end and she backed off a little, but she’s always there in the background, the leader of the moral crusade against the hotbed of villainy and corruption that is the Maison Rouge theatre. So Grace is not living in the normal circumstances that one would expect a ten-year-old to be living in. But she’s happy, and she’s safe, and she’s surrounded by people who would quite happily kill anyone who tries to harm her. She’s getting her education, she’s got friends… Why should the mayor concern herself with our lives just because she doesn’t approve of the way we live them?” He gave a slight twitch. “Although Alice and I did get married after that, just in case Mills or one of her cronies tried something again. She’s not legally Grace’s mother but we’ve got more of a stable base now that we’re official rather than just cohabiting.”

Emma cast a glance askance at Jefferson. He was an incredibly complex man and she was only just realising it. On her first impression of him, when she had first met him in the small hours of the night discussing escapee rabbits and magic tricks, she had thought him to be utterly and gleefully mad, but as time had gone on she had received a much more detailed picture of him. Not only was he a brilliant magician, he was a loving father and a loyal friend, and despite the madness of his stage persona that so often spilled over into his everyday life, he could always be sensible when and if the time called for it. Given the dire straits of his past, Emma was not surprised that he took every opportunity to let his hair down and act the part that he was born to play whenever he could. It seemed that the theatre had provided more than just a shelter for Jefferson and his family, but also the chance to be happy that they would not necessarily have had otherwise with the shadows of his past hanging over them. Those shadows would never die completely, but perhaps the footlights had softened them somewhat, made them less overwhelming.

She glanced over her shoulder at the large white building she knew to be the town hall, just visible in the streets behind them, and the lights of the theatre twinkling away on the hill above. She wondered just why Regina hated the theatre so much, and just how far she was willing to go. The mayor was certainly tenacious, Emma would definitely give her that much, and she wasn’t even sure if some of the tactics she employed were legal. But so far the theatre had triumphed through all the adversities that had been thrown at it and still come out on top, and still, Regina was trying to unsettle it.

“Will she ever learn?” she asked.

“Who, Madame Mayor?” Jefferson gave a snort of laughter. “Never, and the reason’s simple. She doesn’t understand human nature, I don’t think. I don’t know what’s happened to give her such a warped and cold view of people, but she doesn’t seem to understand that we theatre-folk aren’t like normal people. Granny’s said it often enough and you know by now, from what you’ve observed and heard and experienced, that we are more than a theatre and an occupation. We’re a refuge, a sanctuary. We protect our own, and an attack against one of us is tantamount to an attack on us all. It will only make us stronger and bring us closer together. That’s the one thing that Regina doesn’t understand. Maybe the cutthroat world of local politics, where it’s every man and woman for themselves, has twisted her judgment.”

He reached out and patted Emma’s shoulder before taking up her backpack.

“Enough of Madame Mayor. Have I convinced you that no matter what the poison Sidney Glass might spread, we still love you and we couldn’t care less what happened before you came to us? Are you going to come home now?”

Emma was reminded of Gold’s words to her on her first afternoon at the theatre, when she had first tried to leave. _We don't care what you did before. We could all fill books with the tales of our pasts. For the present, you're one of us._ Ever since she had come to the theatre, she had held those words dear, because she was so scared of being told to leave. _Maison Rouge_ was the first place she had ever had that could be called home, and the first people who could be called family. Jefferson had just reaffirmed it. _An attack against one of us is tantamount to an attack on us all_. That included her.

She stood up and hooked her arm through Jefferson’s offered one.

“Home,” she said, musing over the word. “Yes. Home sounds like a good idea.”

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning:** This chapter consists almost exclusively of Gold telling Emma his story, and therefore contains **description and discussion of past domestic abuse.**
> 
> This was originally meant to be chapter ten, but I was having a lot of trouble writing chapter nine, so since this one was already written, I decided ‘screw it’ and switched them over.

**Maison Rouge**

**Chapter Nine**

Emma woke in the early hours of the morning for no discernible reason and couldn't get back to sleep again. She stared up at the sloped ceiling in Ruby's room, making out the shapes on the posters there. Ruby herself was curled up in the centre of her bed with both arms wrapped tightly around her penguin hot water bottle.

No-one had mentioned the article on her return to the theatre, and no-one had made any allusions to her attempted flit. Whether Jefferson had warned them or not, Emma could not tell, but either way, she was grateful for the silence allowing her to continue with her day to day life as if nothing had happened. They would let her tell her story to them in her own time.

Emma sighed and turned over onto her side to stare at the door instead. Presently her ears pricked up; she could hear someone moving quietly in the kitchen opposite. Her brow furrowed - one of the residents, or a burglar? There wasn't much in the apartment worth stealing; the real wealth of the theatre lay downstairs.

She slipped off the sofa and went to investigate, putting on an extra pair of socks to cushion her feet against the cold lino in the kitchen. She opened the door a fraction and, blinking against the stark moonlight shining in through the unguarded window, peered round the frame. Gold was standing by the sink, absently winding the string of a teabag round his fingers as he looked out over the sleeping town. As if he could tell that he was being watched, he glanced back over his shoulder and saw Emma.

"Can't sleep either?"

Emma shook her head and ventured further into the kitchen. Gold moved over to the kettle as it flicked itself off and he poured some water into a mug before adding his teabag, and the smell of peppermint began to seep into the room.

"Would you like a cup?" he asked. "I've always found mint to be soothing at night."

Emma had never had mint tea before, but the offer seemed to be more than tea. It was an olive branch of sorts, a gesture of friendship and acceptance on Gold's part, and it seemed rude not to accept.

"Yes please."

He poured another mug and brought it over; Emma noticed that his limp was much more pronounced in the absence of his cane. She had seen him walk without its aid before, of course, but she had never really been paying all that much attention on the previous occasions. She murmured her thanks as he handed her one mug, but she couldn't stop glancing down at his injured leg. Gold caught her looking and laughed.

"My war wounds," he said. "Many, many years ago I had an accident in the fly loft."

He sat down opposite her, and once he was settled with his leg stretched out under the table, he began to speak again.

“You haven’t seen much of the fly loft, have you?” he asked.

“No. I know that’s where Mulan and Philip sit but I’ve never been up there.”

“The fly loft is directly above the stage and the lighting gantries,” Gold explained. “It’s where the drapes and curtains hang when they’re not in use, and where they’re operated from. We use a bare stage, so there’s not much need of flies, but when I was working the big shows in London, a lot of the scenery was flown in.” He paused. “It’s a dangerous job. Six storeys above the stage with no safety net. The beams are heavy and they can kill a man if they’re let fall. They work on pulley systems with massive counterbalances. Everything has to be tied off correctly, everything has to be secured. There’s an art to flying.” He sighed. “I had an accident,” he repeated. “Someone didn’t tie off a counterbalance properly and I ended up tangled in the ropes. It came down to a choice between tumbling onto the stage or having my leg crushed by a freefalling weight. You can see what I chose. The surgeons said they’d never seen such a badly shattered bone; it was a miracle that they could put my ankle back together.”

“But they did.”

“They did. They never gave up on me, and it’s thanks to them that I can walk now, even if with difficulty.” He flexed his ankle unconsciously.

Emma sipped her tea and found that she actually quite liked it. It tasted fresh and clean, and helped to clear her stuffy head.

“It was before you came here,” she said. “So it must have been quite a long time ago.”

“Nearly fifteen years,” Gold replied. “I’ve been here for ten.”

“So… How did you come to be here?” Emma asked. The corner of Gold’s mouth twitched.

“I don’t think that’s a story for the dark and dead of night,” he muttered.

“I can put the lights on if you want,” Emma suggested.

Gold smiled and shook his head. “No, it’s all right. At least you know that the story has a happy ending.”

He took a sip of his tea.

“Once upon a time,” he began, “I was married – legally I still am – to a woman named Millie. We had a son, Bae. At the time this little tale begins, Millie and I had been married for ten years, and Bae was nine. Everything was fine. Life was good. Millie was in theatrical costuming; I was working the fly loft at Haymarket theatre. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

Gold’s eyes were distant, staring not at his surroundings but out across the years, back into his past, one he obviously did not care too much to remember.

“Then I had my accident.” His voice was hard and brittle. “I was laid up for a long time, and I couldn’t go back to flying and light-rigging. It was impossible for me to climb all the ladders with my ankle. I’ve regained some strength and mobility in it since then, but it still doesn’t like to bear weight.

“Millie became the sole family breadwinner, and suddenly, something happened. Something catalysed the change. Or maybe it had always been there, just lying dormant. I don’t know.”

Gold stopped and studied the depths of his tea. Emma could tell this was difficult for him.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want,” she offered. He shook his head.

“Everyone knows my story,” he said. “Apart from Grace; Jefferson says she’s too young for it yet but she knows the gist. It’s only fair that you should know too. You deserve to know the truth about the people you trust. You know Jefferson and Alice’s past, and Ruby and Granny’s. You may as well know mine too. Some things are just harder to relate than others.”

He drained his mug and traced his long fingers over the rim.

“It was gradual at first. I didn’t even notice, really. I spent a lot of time drugged up on painkillers and anti-inflammatories. But however small it started, it started. Millie got… _nasty_ , for want of a better polite term. She told me I was useless, a waste of space, good for nothing. Pathetic.” He sighed. “The cocktail of pills I was on had a detrimental effect on our sex life, and that was when I wasn’t in too much pain to do anything but try and sleep through it.” He shrugged. “Maybe I didn’t notice because I was thinking the same thing about myself at the time. I just remember thinking over and over that the one thing I loved doing most in the world had been taken from me. I’d never be a flyman again. But even after I began recovering, Millie’s words didn’t stop; they only got worse. I started taking odd electrical jobs again – I’m not really qualified for anything else. But still, nothing was good enough for her.

“She’d got used to being the one in the ultimate position of power, the one with control over the finances… I don’t know, I’m theorising. Dr Hopper could tell you better.

“One day it came to a head; she was yelling again – I found there was little point in trying to fight back, she was always louder and wore me down with volume alone – and she said it would have been better if I had fallen. Because flying can be a dangerous job, the agency I was with gave a very substantial death in service payout and I had a good life insurance policy.” He snorted. “When your wife tells you she’d rather you were dead, it knocks you for six slightly.”

“So you left and came here?” Emma asked. Gold gave a bitter smile and shook his head.

“No, there’s more to factor in yet. We settled into a sort of rut then; after all, I was still financially dependent on Millie, but moreover, most importantly, there was Bae. I wouldn’t leave Bae. So I stayed. I tried my best, and in a way I just got used to her scathing words. Sticks and stones and all that. It was just life. It was horrible, but it was the way things were.”

“What changed?” Emma asked. She remembered the scars on his torso, the nervousness around new people, especially women, and Granny’s words from the night of Belle’s nightmare.

“She started lashing out physically as well as with her tongue.” He lifted the hem of his t-shirt an inch and ran a fingertip over the exposed lines. “Her mother’s ancient rope washing line. She used to swing it when she got particularly angry, and that stuff’s got some bite to it, like an old cat o’nine. I’m not very mobile, I can’t dodge.”

“And that was when you left?”

Gold shook his head sadly. “I’m not as brave as you give me credit for, Emma.”

“But what about your family?” she asked. “Your parents, siblings, couldn’t they help?”

“I was an only child and my parents have both been dead a long time. My only relative was my father’s sister in Glasgow, who was precisely no help. She told me that if I couldn’t stand up for myself against my own wife, then I wasn’t much of a man and I ought to pull myself together. I hit a bit of a low after that. I don’t think she really understood the extent of what I was going through, what I’d been going through for over three years at that point, but still, to have the person you think is your only hope of help hang up on you whilst you’re crying down the phone to her… I came to the conclusion that if both Millie and Elvira thought the same then it must be true and I must be the one with the problem. But there was one small spark left, one little bit of me that was rational, and that bit told me that no matter what, I couldn’t leave, because I couldn’t and wouldn’t leave Bae. I’d never known Millie lash out at our son, or be anything other than a loving mother towards him, but I was terrified that if I left, she’d start on him instead.”

Gold smiled, and the expression was warmer now. Emma sensed that they were coming to the end of the tale. Then he frowned. “Oh sweetheart, I’m sorry.” He fished around in the pockets of his dressing down before giving up and passing her a couple of sheets of kitchen roll. “I did say it wasn’t a story for the dark and dead of night.”

Emma hadn’t even realised that she had begun to cry, and now she felt acutely embarrassed.

“Stupid pregnancy hormones,” she muttered as she dried her eyes.

“We can continue this conversation later,” Gold offered.

Emma shook her head. “You’ve started it now, you’ve got to finish it. I know you’re happy now, but I need to know how you got here from the rather bleak situation you just described.”

“All right then. This is how it happened.” He paused. “It was Bae who saved me in the end, Bae who made up my mind for me. He couldn’t take it anymore. He knew ours was no happy family. He confronted me one day when Millie was at work; I was patching myself up and getting drunk out of my mind. He said: ‘Ma does it, doesn’t she? She hurts you.’ And I couldn’t deny it. He asked me why I didn’t leave, and I said I wouldn’t leave him. I couldn’t take him with me; he was only fourteen and it would look like I’d kidnapped him. Who’s going to believe a man when he says he’s been a victim of domestic abuse and he’s run away with his son for his own safety? I just thought that everyone would react in the same way that my aunt had.”

“What did you do?” Emma asked.

“I didn’t do anything. Bae did it all. First he took away the whisky, which was undoubtedly the most sensible step. Then he sat me down at the kitchen table and got a large pad of paper, and he planned my leaving down to the last detail. You’d think we were plotting to break out of Alcatraz, the contingencies he thought up. He said that no matter what, I had to leave because he didn’t want me to keep getting hurt on his account. Apparently the argument ‘I’m your father and I would die to keep you safe’ wasn’t rational enough for him. In essence, he wanted me to find somewhere nice and safe and send him a postcard care of his best friend Morraine – so that Millie wouldn’t find out where I was. We would communicate through Morrie until he was sixteen, whereupon he’d finish school and come to find me. He was so enthusiastic about the whole thing that somehow, he managed to bolster my own confidence. He was so sure that his plan was foolproof, but at the same time, my primary fear remained. It was a vicious cycle. I would do anything to protect Bae, which meant staying, and I would do anything to make him happy, which meant leaving.

“It was another three months before I actually left. Millie was at work and Bae was at school. I don’t know why I picked that particular day. I can’t remember. It’s so long ago; I just remember finding myself home alone, as I was most days, and thinking ‘today’s the day’. Maybe it was a subconscious desire to leave when Bae wasn’t there, so it wouldn’t seem like I was leaving him. I packed my bags and spent half an hour standing in the kitchen pulling up the courage to walk out. Then Bae came home and my confidence caved. But he saw me, ready to go, and he told me how brave and strong I was, and how he was proud of me. I couldn’t reply, I certainly didn’t feel brave. I felt like the worst sort of coward, running away for my own preservation and leaving my fourteen-year-old to pick up the pieces.

“’There’s just one thing missing,’ he said, and he ran upstairs only to appear moments later with Mr Ted.”

Gold’s eyes flickered towards the kitchen door, and Emma understood.

“The bear on your dressing table,” she said. Gold nodded.

“When Bae was younger, I used to make up bedtime stories for him about Mr Ted. Mr Ted was a brave adventurer who could do anything, including fight pirates and fly several different sorts of aircraft, as well as time travel to ride dinosaurs. He was also a virtuoso bassoon player. You name it and Mr Ted probably did it at one point during the first six years of Bae’s life. He was a very busy bear,” Gold mused. “Anyway, Bae gave me Mr Ted. ‘I know you don’t think you’re very brave,’ he said. ‘But Mr Ted’s brave enough for two’. That’s what I always told him, when he was scared of things when he was little. Mr Ted was brave enough for two, and Mr Ted would look after him.

“Still, the thought that I wouldn’t see him again for another eighteen months was a frightening one. ‘Eighteen months is nothing, Pops. You always complain that it seems like only yesterday that you first held me. Eighteen months will fly.’”

Gold smiled. “That’s pretty much the end of the story. I finally left the house before Bae dragged me out through the door, and spent a week feeling utterly wretched and tempted to pack it all in and grovel to Millie to take me back. But then I found this place. I offered my services as an electrician and ex-flyman able to tie complicated knots, and in return, Mrs Lucas offered me a home. Bae and I communicated through Morraine until eighteen months later. About a month after Bae finished school, I got a call from the box office telling me that there was a boy named Bae claiming to be my son in the foyer, could I please come down?”

Emma laughed. “He could have given you some warning.”

“I think he wanted it to be a nice surprise. At any rate, Bae moved in – I had told Granny to expect him at some point – and all was well with the world.” Gold sighed. “I still feel guilty though. For abandoning him for those eighteen months.”

“He was ok though, wasn’t he? Did Millie hurt him?”

Gold shook his head. “No. He always swore she never hurt him, and I know when Bae’s lying. He said that the first evening after I left, Millie didn’t even notice I’d gone for about three hours. When she asked him ‘where’s your dad?’ he replied ‘we couldn’t stand you hurting him anymore, he’s gone’, and all she did was say ‘oh’ and sit down at the kitchen table with a double vodka. Apparently she took up with a sailor just after it was established that I wasn’t coming home and Bae was pretty much left to his own devices. She didn’t argue when he told her he was leaving home to come and find me. She’d always accepted he was a daddy’s boy, long before anything went sour between us. I don’t think it came as much of a surprise to her.”

There was a long silence, but it was not uncomfortable.

“That’s my tale,” Gold said eventually. “That’s how the status quo remained until Bae decided to go travelling and Belle arrived, but that’s a completely different story.”

Emma wanted to ask about it, and about how Gold had come to own the building that he had entered as a humble electrician, but she sensed that these were discussions to be had at another juncture. She was getting tired again, and sleep was probably a better idea than storytelling. Things were falling into place now; Gold’s behavioural traits were being explained. His nervousness around woman who might hurt him the way Millie had, his guarded defensiveness around strangers who might judge him as his aunt had. Why he would only let Jefferson and none of the theatre’s female residents near him when he was injured. Why Belle was so mortified when she had accidentally hit him. It explained his fervent wish for Emma to do right by her child – the guilt that he still carried with him about leaving Bae.

Emma got up and placed her now-empty mug in the sink. “I’m glad you got out,” she said eventually. “I’m glad you got out, and you were reunited with Bae, and you met Belle, and you’re happy now.”

Gold smiled as he eased himself out of the chair and made to leave the kitchen, holding the door open for Emma.

“As am I, Emma. As am I.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry that this has taken so long to update! *Hangs head in shame* Please enjoy this latest offering, in which Emma finds her niche, and the moral crusade is causing trouble again...

**Maison Rouge**

**Chapter Ten**

It was lunchtime in the theatre, and Granny was serving up a vast pot of lamb stew to the gathered ensemble in the kitchen when Astrid’s voice and clattering footsteps could be heard coming up the stairs towards the apartment.

“Leroy! The computer’s making funny noises at me and I think it’s going to blow up!”

She burst into the kitchen, her curly hair in complete disarray, and when she saw that Leroy was not amongst the cast and crew who had congregated for lunch, her face fell.

“Where’s Leroy?” she asked.

Jefferson shrugged. “Well, he’s not here. Why don’t you sit down, Astrid, and have some of this excellent stew to calm your nerves? The computer is not going to blow up.”

“It keeps making funny noises,” Astrid said mournfully, sinking into the last empty place at the table and accepting the bowl of stew that Granny passed to her.

“What kind of noises?” Emma asked.

“It keeps beeping at me and telling me nothing’s recognised and that the ticket database is corrupt, and when I try to do anything, it whirs at me. Aggressively.”

Jefferson raised an eyebrow,

“Well, that does sound serious,” he said, “but I don’t think that violent conflagrations are imminent. Can you shed any light on the situation, Mr Gold?”

“Certainly, which of my many torches would you like?” Gold muttered. “Jefferson, you know that I don’t know one end of a computer from the other. I have enough trouble with a cordless phone. If it’s electrics I can do it; computers are a wizardry I have yet to master.”

Emma, who had been listening to the banter and Astrid’s forlorn explanation carefully, thought that she might know what the problem was. Or at least, how to stop the computer making strange noises and putting the fear of explosions in the box office staff.

“Would you like me to take a look?” she asked Astrid. “I think I know how to fix it.”

“You do?” Astrid turned to Emma and her face lit up, as if the younger woman was the answer to all of her prayers. “Please help!”

Emma finished her last mouthful of stew and followed Astrid, who was still eating hers, out of the kitchen and down the two flights of stairs to the box office. The computer did look to be a rather sorry state – the thing must have been over fifteen years old for a start – and it was showing a stark grey error message about corrupted files. Emma sat down and began typing. It was a while since she’d had access to a computer and she only now realised how much she had missed it.

“The ticket database, right?” she asked. Astrid nodded mournfully around a mouthful of stew.

“All the reservations are in there,” she said once she’d swallowed. “All the people who’ve booked tickets and are going to pick them up tonight before the show starts, their details are in there. It could be potentially disastrous if I lose it.”

“Is it a live database?” Emma asked.

Astrid gave her a blank look. “A what?”

“A live database, an Internet-based one that updates in real time every time someone buys a ticket.”

Astrid shook her head.

“I can honestly say that I have no idea what you’re talking about, but no-one buys tickets over the Internet, only via phone and in person here at the box office. We don’t have a website.”

“Really?” Emma closed the error message and set about trying to find the option to restore the file to a previous version. “That surprises me. I would have thought you’d advertise online. You’d reach a lot more people.”

Astrid perched on the desk beside her. “I guess that the thought just didn’t occur to Granny,” she said. “This has been her baby since before the dawn of the Internet. She’s only ever done telephone and in-person booking, and it’s always worked for her. She’s kind of traditional in that sense.”

Granny was not at all traditional as far as Emma was concerned. In Emma’s admittedly limited experience of grannies, they were generally all doddery elderly women who knitted in arm chairs and drank cocoa and complained about the younger generation. Whilst Granny did an awful lot of knitting and drank cocoa, she absolutely adored the younger generation. There was also the small matter of her running a theatre, which none of Emma’s other experiences of grannies had ever taught her to believe was traditional. She didn’t mention anything to Astrid regarding it and continued to try and save the database.

“Ok, I can fix it, but you’ll lose anything that was updated after three o’clock yesterday afternoon,” she said.

“That’s fine, anything is better than nothing. I thought I’d lost the whole thing. Leroy’s always telling me to back the thing up but I’ve got no idea how. I’m the person who hits it with a shoe when it doesn’t work.”

Emma made a mental note to ask someone to source a memory stick and get the computer backed up in case something like this happened again. She let the program run and then the database opened without any problems. “Tada.”

Astrid looked up at her with awe. “Stay forever,” she murmured. “I don’t care what Ruby says, I’m stealing you from the bar and bringing you to work down here. Thank you so much.” She threw her arms around Emma in a tight hug, then sprung back, looking down at her belly. “Oops, sorry, are you all right? And are you all right in there?” she asked Emma’s tummy.

Emma laughed. “We’re both fine, thanks.”

She turned back to the computer, clicking around to see if there were any other damaged files before setting the rather old and in dire need of updating anti-virus program to work, just in case. She’d only fallen into working in the bar by accident really, but this was something she could do, something she was good at. Granny and Ruby had said that she would find her niche, and she had. At least, she thought she had.

“Thank you,” Astrid repeated.

“I’m happy to help. And I’m happy to stay if you want me to.”

Astrid nodded eagerly. “How do you know so much about computers anyway?” she asked before taking a final mouthful of stew.

“It was always my best subject at school,” Emma said. “I had a really good teacher, he taught us how to fix things that were broken before he let us loose on the school computers, so that if we accidentally broke anything, we could fix it ourselves. I skipped a lot of school, but I never missed IT if I could help it. There’s a lot of stuff I’ve forgotten but some of it stuck.”

Astrid sucked on her spoon contemplatively.

“Could you make us a website?” she asked eventually.

Emma made a face. She had a very battered and water-stained web design book in her backpack upstairs in Ruby’s room. It was her most treasured possession, and it was one of very few things that she had come into ownership of that she hadn’t stolen. The library had been getting rid of battered old books and she’d actually got this one legitimately. In and out of care throughout her teens, it was always in her bag, always ready to go whenever she needed to.

“Yes,” she said eventually, even if she did not feel as confident as she sounded. “Yes, I could,”

Well, she could try at least, and no-one could blame her for trying even if she failed.

“Because I think it would make sense.” For all that she was scatterbrained and something of a bad luck charm when it came to technology, Astrid seemed to have a head for business. “Most of our custom comes locally – we advertise in the local papers – or from word of mouth. If we have a website then the entire world can know about us. Theoretically.” She sighed. “Sorry, the Moral Crusaders have been rather vocal recently, and we keep asking ourselves what we can do to beat them back. I’m sure Granny wouldn’t mind updating a little if it means we get more custom and get to stay open. This place… It’s a lifeline for so many of us. I mean, you can see it in your case, and in Gold’s, and Belle’s, and Jeff’s. This place is your home, it’s your life. But its reach extends far beyond these walls.” She paused. “Would you believe me if I told you I used to be a nun?”

Emma was unable to stop her jaw dropping open.

“No.”

“Well, I was. Sister Astrid. You know how Leroy calls everyone sister? I got so confused the first time he did that to me; I hadn’t told anyone other than Granny that I’d come from the convent and I wondered how on earth he had found out. I had a crisis of faith, decided that the religious life wasn’t for me anymore. So I looked for a job, and I found one here, in the theatre with Granny. And I’ve made so many wonderful friendships; I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have Maison Rouge.”

Emma smiled. It was easy to forget about the rest of the theatre family sometimes, since she did not see them anywhere near as often as those who resided under the roof with her, but they were just as important to the theatre and just as dependent on it as any others – and they were just as much a part of the family as Granny and Ruby and Gold were.

“And you met Leroy,” she pointed out.

“I what? Yes, erm, yes, I suppose I did meet Leroy… what’s that got to do with anything?”

Astrid’s voice had become a rather high-pitched squeak.

“He likes you,” Emma pointed out. “He likes you a lot. He blushes all over his head when you talk to him.”

“He does?” Astrid’s voice was almost into ultrasonic now.

“Surely you’ve noticed it?”

“Erm…” The poor woman looked like she was panicking. “Erm… right, erm…”

Emma just watched her floundering for a moment. It was really quite endearing. Luckily, Astrid was saved from any further embarrassment by the appearance of Granny’s face around the door to the box office.

“Crisis averted?” she asked.

Astrid nodded and brought her hands down on Emma’s shoulders. “Can I keep her? Please?”

“Emma’s not a puppy, Astrid.” Granny laughed. “I suppose it’s up to her. Do you want to see how the box office takes your fancy?” she asked Emma.

Emma nodded. “Yeah, as long as Ruby doesn’t mind.”

“Oh, Ruby won’t mind. She’d far rather that you were doing something that you enjoyed.”

Granny came into the office fully and took Astrid’s empty bowl, holding out a hand for the licked-clean spoon that the other woman was still holding, waving it about like some kind of self-defence mechanism in the face of her fluster at Emma’s comments about Leroy. Emma just smiled. If it worked for Ruby and Archie, perhaps it could work for Leroy and Astrid too, and maybe Jefferson wouldn’t need to resort to locking them in a broom cupboard together.

Just then, the phone rang in the box office, and all three women looked at each other, each expecting one of the others to pick it up. Finally Astrid took the initiative.

“Hello, Maison Rouge box office, Astrid speaking, how may I help you?”

Emma got out of the chair in front of the computer to let Astrid sit down and look at the database. The other woman listened to the caller for a few moments before pausing in her scrolling through the lists of booked seats and speaking a single word.

“Oh.”

She held out the phone to Granny without another word.

“It’s the captain,” she hissed.

Granny raised one eyebrow. “The captain? Which captain?”

“Captain Jones.”

“Ah, that captain.” She took the phone and indicated for Astrid and Emma to leave the room. “Hello, Captain Jones,” she began, but Emma could hear no more.

“What was that about?” Emma asked.

“Ship coming in,” Astrid muttered. “There’s going to be a ship coming in. Sailors all over the town. I _hate_ sailors.”

Emma didn’t think that she’d ever known the usually mild-mannered Astrid so vehement about anything before, and she decided that it would be best not to push the point. There were no secrets amongst the theatre folk, or very few at least, and she had no doubt that Granny would tell them anything they needed to know in due course. She and Astrid made their way up to the apartment again; the others had finished their lunch and departed to go about their daily tasks. Only Belle and Gold were left, doing the washing up.

“We saved you some pie,” Belle said, flapping her tea-towel in the direction of the thing on the kitchen table that had once been a lemon meringue pie. It was looking rather demolished and worse for wear now, which was probably understandable given that it had just had about eight people attack it with spoons and knives and serving slicers, but Emma had no doubt that it still tasted good. She and Astrid collected clean spoons and got stuck in, not bothering with bowls since there was so little left.

“You didn’t save us very _much_ pie,” Astrid pointed out.

“Well, there would have been more but Gold kept going back for seconds.”

“I did nothing of the sort! I had a smaller piece than everyone else to begin with!”

“That’s a barefaced lie, Raymond Gold!”

Gold retaliated by flicking washing up water at Belle, who then responded in kind. Emma was on the verge of thinking that they were going to flood the kitchen, then Belle darted in to peck a kiss to Gold’s cheek, leaving him momentarily dazed and speechless and undeniably giving her the victory. Emma smiled; they were not often very overt in their affections towards each other and it was sweet to watch them so relaxed and loving and _happy_ , knowing as she did some of the things that they’d had to come through in order to get to this stage. Emma wondered about Belle. She knew Gold’s story now, but Belle was still something of a mystery. That she had come from an abusive relationship was a given, and Emma dreaded to think what she’d had to endure before finding her happiness here with Gold.

The washing up continued as if the war of the suds had not occurred and by the time Emma and Astrid were finished with the pie, Belle was getting ready to leave the kitchen.

“I’m going into town Emma, I need to pick up some prescriptions from the chemist. Want to come?”

Emma nodded. It would be good to get out of the theatre; she had not really had much opportunity to do so since her thankfully aborted attempt to run away earlier in the week, and it would be good to get some fresh air and exercise. Thinking about running away brought her full circle, back to the newspaper article that had started it all.

“Belle…” she began, as they walked down the theatre driveway. The other woman turned to her, politely questioning. “Did you read the article about me in the Mirror on Monday?”

Belle nodded slowly. “Yes, I did.”

“I…” Emma didn’t quite know what to say next. _What did you think? I promise not all of it’s true, but most of it is?_

“Emma, we all know, in this town, that Sidney Glass is a thoroughly nasty piece of work and we all take his words with a pinch of salt,” Belle said kindly. “I know Jefferson spoke to you about it, surely that should put your mind at ease given his history.”

Emma nodded. “I know, and it did. I was just thinking, you know.”

Belle smiled. “It can be a dangerous pastime, sometimes, thinking. Especially about the past. It’s very easy to get caught up in your fears, and cringe at things you did ten years ago that don’t matter now.” Suddenly Belle looked away, her eyes sad and downcast.

“Belle?”

“I got married ten years ago,” Belle said quietly. “Ten years and four months ago. I’d forgotten how long it had been.” She gave a harsh bark of laughter. “How do you forget something like that?”

“Because you want to?” Emma suggested. “Sometimes I wish I could forget the last year.”

Belle gave a weak smile. “I suppose in the end it doesn’t matter, what happened ten years ago. Because we’re here now, and that’s what matters. We’re here, and everything is going to get better.”

“It can hardly get much worse than it was,” Emma agreed.

The two women laughed and continued to make their way down towards the town. Once they reached the chemist, Belle went up to the dispensing counter with all theatre’s various prescriptions, and Emma was left to look around the rest of the shop. She was drawn to the baby section, looking at nappies and creams and baby shampoos, and the small rack of little sleepsuits. She pressed a hand over her stomach, feeling the slight curve there, just on the verge of showing through her clothes, but still small enough to be put down to bloating or sudden weight gain. She hadn’t got anything ready for the baby, a small part of her telling her that she had plenty of time yet, and the rest of her snidely remarking that she was only saying that because she was scared, and procrastination would only make it worse.

She picked up one of the little sleepsuits in newborn size, green with cream stripes and a smiling teddy bear’s face on the left side of the chest. Green was a good colour. Emma was certain that she was having a boy, but best not force gender roles on him just yet.

“That’s a lovely one,” someone said over her shoulder. Emma turned sharply to see a woman smiling benignly at her. She looked to be about Alice’s age, and her uniform showed that she worked in the chemist but was not a pharmacist herself. “It’s our best seller. Is it for you, or a friend?”

“Well, it’s hardly likely to fit me,” Emma said with a laugh.

The other woman didn’t laugh, and Emma saw now that her smile did not quite reach her eyes. The expression unnerved her slightly.

“Can I help you?” she asked the older woman.

“I just wanted to offer my support for your situation,” she replied, voice honey-sweet but with a hard edge to it that put Emma’s hackles up. She looked at the name badge. _Fae Blue_. “You’re so young, after all, and the theatre is hardly a place to bring up a child. It’s bad enough to have one poor girl living there, but to raise a baby?”

“What are you insinuating?” Emma asked.

The woman took the sleepsuit from Emma’s hands and put it back on the rail. “I just think that perhaps it would be best not to get too attached.”

Her meaning was immediately made abundantly clear, and Emma snapped.

Perhaps before, she would have taken Fae’s words to heart; she would have let them fester and rot away in her mind. Perhaps before, they would have scared her enough to make her move on, to run away like she had done so many times from so many things, the constant spectre of her fears always over her shoulder.

But Emma had been living at Maison Rouge for almost a month now, and she knew that there were people there who would stick up for her no matter what. There were people there who would fight for her, and help her make the right choices, and would help to stop her making the wrong choices. She knew that she had, dare she even think it, a family, who would protect her from the things that scared her and banish those terrible ghosts.

So whilst a month ago, Fae’s words would have made her run, now they did not. A month ago, they would have made her weak, but now they strengthened her resolve.

She calmly took the little sleepsuit off the rail again.

“I do not appreciate being threatened,” she said. “And if you so much as _think_ about getting my baby taken away from me, you will have a lot of very angry people to answer to. You have no right to think you know what’s best for me, none. Now if you don’t mind, I would like to pay.”

Fae pursed her lips and made her way over to the cash register, brusquely counting out Emma’s change and shoving the little green sleepsuit into a carrier bag. Emma took it with a tight-lipped smile and made it out of the chemist before she began to shake uncontrollably.

She was not going to run. She was not going to be scared.

But it was very hard.

“Are you ok, Emma?”

Belle had come out of the chemist behind her, an arm full of prescription packets.

“Stupid cashier,” Emma muttered.

“Yeah, Fae’s a piece of work. Second in command of the moral crusade after Regina. Easy to the spot the type. The privileged think they know best for everyone. Ignore her.” Belle’s eyes were earnest. “She likes to get people’s backs up. Jefferson’s come close to a physical altercation more than once. I think her motto is ‘but think of the children!’ Grace loathes her.” The older woman sighed. “She’s the worst kind of nasty because on the surface she seems so nice. At least you can respect Madam Mayor for being overtly horrible.”

Emma gave a snort of laughter.

“Please don’t run again,” Belle said softly as they began to make their way back up the hill towards the theatre. “I know you nearly ran on Monday. Please stay with us. We might not be much, but we want you to be safe, and happy, no matter what happens, no matter what people like Regina and Fae might say.”

Emma stopped. She was not a tactile person, but in that moment, she found herself asking:

"Can I hug you?"

Belle laughed. "If you want."

Emma threw her arms around Belle and buried her face in the tiny woman’s shoulder.

“Thank you,” she mumbled.

“You’re welcome. Now, what did you buy for the baby? I can’t wait to see it!”

Emma smiled and showed Belle the sleepsuit.

“Aw, it’s perfect! He’ll be cute as a button in that. I can’t wait to see him in it.”

Emma couldn’t, either.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning:** Assault

If Emma was slightly alarmed when Granny announced that there was going to be a full staff meeting in the theatre that afternoon, she didn’t show it. The murmurs had been running around the theatre all of the previous evening, ever since Granny had taken that phone call in the box office from the captain. Emma didn’t know how the news managed to get around all of the theatre crew so quickly, but they were a tight knit bunch and at times she thought that they had a near telepathic connection. The whispers had been ones of slight unease: _There’s a ship in. There’s a ship coming in. Sailors all over the town again._

When all the cast and crew were gathered together in the auditorium, sitting down in the stalls, Emma realised just how many of them there were working in the theatre. Because they usually spent their days in different parts of the building, it was easy to forget just how many hands it took to make the show run smoothly.

“Ship coming in,” Mary Margaret muttered as she slipped into the seat behind Emma. “We only ever have a full staff meeting when there’s a ship coming in.”

“Ladies, gentlemen,” Granny began, having performed a quick headcount of everyone. “As you have probably heard from the chatter going on last night and this morning, there is a large ship docking on Friday.”

“Called it,” Mary Margaret whispered. “Don’t you just hate it when rumours are true?”

“We aren’t expecting any trouble,” Granny said. “I know this captain, Liam Jones, and we’ve never had any trouble from one of his ships before, but there is never any harm in being on our guard. We have had a large booking from the ship for Friday night, so be prepared for a rowdy audience, Gold.”

“Don’t worry Mrs Lucas, I’ve got comebacks for pretty much every kind of heckler you can think of. I’ve been practising them on Jefferson.”

Granny gave a snort of laughter and turned to the two odd job men in the front row. Leroy shoved Walter’s shoulder where he had been dozing off in the seat beside him. “Leroy, Walter, I’d like you on the doors please. There’s no need to be menacing, just be there, in case of any disturbances, and be vigilant. Ruby, you’ll likely need an extra pair of hands – Ashley’s volunteered to help out.” Next to Emma, Ruby and Ashley exchanged a high-five over the back of the tiered seats, and then Granny continued. “Don’t be afraid to refuse to serve someone if you think they’ve had too much. If there’s any trouble, I’ll be around like always.”

“No sailor can ever stand up to Granny if she’s got something to say,” Ruby said. “I’ve seen her stare down a guy, he must have been seven foot tall, absolutely covered in tattoos.”

Granny gave her granddaughter a stern look and Ruby mimed zipping her lips so that the older woman could continue speaking.

“Emma, I think that it would be best for you to stay in the box office with Astrid and Tina.”

There were various noises of assent from around the auditorium and then Granny smiled again.

“Well, I think that’s enough from me, unless anyone else has anything to add? Oh, and Graham’s kindly agreed to take that particular shift should anything unsavoury occur.”

No-one had anything else that they wanted to say and the staff began to file out of the auditorium to return to their various tasks.

“Graham?” Emma asked.

“He’s our tame policeman,” Ruby explained. “He’s the one we go to if we’ve got any problems. Regina has most of the local police force in her pockets but Graham’s good, he gets on well with us and we get on well with him. We’ve never had much trouble in the past, but if we have, he’s always fought on our side.”

Emma smiled at the notion; she liked the idea that the theatre had people outside of its own society that it could turn to in times of need. So far her experience of the town had showed the divide in the community very clearly – you were either affiliated with the theatre as a staff member or performer, or a relative of one, or you were not. The only other person she had really known outside of the theatre was Cara, the midwife, but being outside of the town, she did not really count. It was nice to know that there were other people in the town itself who supported them.

“Oh, there are a few of them out there,” Ruby said with a smile. “Not many, admittedly, but there are a few. You need to know where to look. Archie has always been a friend to us, and we’ve got a tame lawyer as well, Kathryn Midas. She and David used to be engaged way back when. His dad was livid when they parted ways but Kathryn’s still good friends with all of us.” She sighed. “Really it comes down to who’s afraid of Regina the most. There aren’t many who aren’t cowed by her, but we’re extremely grateful to them. As lovely as Graham and Kathryn are, though, I do hope that you don’t meet them on Friday.”

Emma smiled. She would like to meet Graham and the other people in town who supported the theatre, but she would far rather that it was in completely calm and happy circumstances.

X

Emma didn’t think that she had ever known the theatre as _noisy_ as it was that Friday evening. She’d seen it busy, but she’d never heard it so loud. She didn’t know if it was really as loud as she thought it was, or if she was just on edge because the rest of the theatre was running around on tenterhooks. She just sat in the box office handing out reserved tickets and wondering what was going on in the auditorium and backstage. She hoped that Ruby and Ashley were getting on all right in the bar. The five minute warning bell had gone, and Astrid had gone up into the bar to help get everyone into their seats in the auditorium, leaving Emma alone to enjoy a few minutes of quiet whilst she tidied up in the office.

Presently the older woman came back down into the box office and sank into her chair, running a hand through her flyaway hair with a sigh.

“It’s all Madam Mayor’s fault,” she said. “She spends so much time spouting tripe that we’re a strip club and brothel that people start to believe it and somehow word gets round to the sailors, and when the ships dock, they make a beeline straight for us. For the most part, they’re all right. They accept – sometimes grudgingly – that we are in fact a theatre and we do not under any circumstances sell sex. But every time there’s a ship in and we have a large block booking from it like this, everyone’s nervous just in case something happens. Sometimes I think Madam Mayor does it on purpose, looking for a way to get us closed down by accusing us of various illegal activities.”

Emma snorted. “I wouldn’t put it past her.” She had only met Regina once, but that one meeting had told her all that she needed to know and having met her associates, all as repulsive as she was, Emma had no desire to meet the mayor again.

"So what happens now?” she asked Astrid.

“Now we just wait,” the older woman said, “and we catch our breath. We might need to help Ruby and Ashley shepherd the audience back into the auditorium after the interval, but the real work is going to be getting everyone out and back in the direction from which they came after the show. Some of them who haven’t got the memo tend to hang around wanting added extras, so to speak.”

It was at that point that the main doors opened and Leroy and Walter came in from outside.

“It’s freezing out there tonight!” Leroy exclaimed as he entered the box office. “I hope they all go home quickly afterwards. Hi Emma, what are you reading?” he added before pausing and saying shyly “Hi Astrid.”

Emma watched Astrid’s face turning beetroot red before deciding to rescue the situation, holding up her web design book which she was studying.

“It’s for the website,” she said. “I thought it would be a good idea to know what I’m doing before I start. Do you think Granny would let us do an introductory offer once we’re up and running? Something like ten pounds off every seat bought online?”

Astrid raised her eyebrows. “Possibly? I have no idea.”

“I think she would,” Leroy said. “She might be advancing in years but her eye for business is still as sharp as ever.”

“I take it that you’re talking about me?” Granny said, coming up to the box office window having descended the steps from the bar.

“Introductory discounts for people buying tickets online, yay or nay?” Leroy asked.

Granny quirked an eyebrow. “I’ll think about it.”

“What’s it like in there?” Astrid gestured up towards the entrance to the auditorium.

“Not as bad as it could be.” Granny made a face. “It’s not great, but it’s not as bad as it could be. I’ve got two I’m keeping an eye on as potential troublemakers. Let’s just say that they were taking full advantage of the bar.” She glanced over at Walter, who had settled himself into a spare chair in the box office and was snoring quietly and she sighed, shaking her head in good-natured despair. “Sometimes I wonder what we pay him for.”

Leroy rolled his eyes and went over to Walter’s chair, kicking one of the legs and startling his brother awake.

“You can’t sleep on an evening like this!” he hissed. “We need to be alert! And awake!”

“But surely if I sleep now, that means I’ll be awake later!” Walter protested.

The other occupants of the box office simply looked at him with disbelieving expressions.

“Nice try, Walter, but we know from experience that no matter how much you sleep during the day, you can still fall asleep anywhere later on in the evening,” Granny said.

“It’s not my fault!” Walter exclaimed. “I just find it very easy to fall asleep in nice warm places!”

“Maybe you should go back outside then,” Leroy muttered. “It’s cold enough out there.”

“But then all my extremities would start dropping off!”

“And that would be such a tragedy.”

Astrid tried to hold back a giggling snort. Emma was not quite as successful in her endeavours and burst out laughing, earning her a wry smile from Granny and a narrow-eyed glare from Walter, the effect of which was somewhat lessened by the yawn that then escaped him.

“Well, we can only wait and see,” Granny said. “I’m sure it will be all right. It normally is.”

X

The show was over and the patrons were slowly leaving the theatre. Emma and Astrid had closed the box office and were up in the empty auditorium, helping Ruby, Ashley and Granny to clean up in there. All in all it had not been a bad night, according to Granny. There had been no signs of any unpleasantness and the audience had settled down a lot after the interval. Ruby joked that she’d slipped Valium into all the drinks she’d been serving. To be honest, Emma wouldn’t have put it past her.

Astrid came past with a large bin bag full of rubbish and Emma followed her out of the tiered seating with a box of plastic glasses for the recycling, and they continued to chat happily as they made their way through the theatre to the back door tucked behind the box office, which led out into the yard where the custard-coloured beetle was stored, snug under its tarpaulin beside the bins. Emma could hear the voices of the last people leaving the theatre and making their way down the driveway back towards the town. Astrid scampered across the yard – the ground was already beginning to rime over with frost in the clear November night, and then came back to the door to take the plastic off Emma.

Emma stepped outside the door behind Astrid to catch a breath of cold night air, the sharp difference to the warm, damp heat inside the theatre was refreshing, and she felt the skin on her bare upper arms turn to gooseflesh. She looked up, trying to find the Plough and the Pole Star like Neal had taught her. There were no clouds in the sky at all and it should have been easy, but she found herself thinking about Neal instead of the stars and quickly averted her gaze, looking instead down over the town. 

"Evening, Princess." 

The voice was familiar although she couldn't quite place it, and she turned to see a man leaning on the wall of the theatre, half-hidden in the shadows. He must have slipped past Leroy and Walter on the doors, there was no way that they would let anyone round into the yard knowingly.

"Hello," she ventured. There was something in his eyes that she didn't quite trust, something predatory. She wondered how much he'd had to drink; if he was one of the ones Granny had been on the lookout for. He sidled a little closer, and Emma took a step back towards the doorway. 

"I don't recall seeing you on the stage, sweetheart," he said.

Emma didn't grace him with a reply, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. She felt dizzy, and she couldn't decide whether it was the stuffiness, the adrenaline or the pregnancy. 

“No sir, that’s because we work in the box office.” Astrid came over and stepped between the man and Emma. Her voice was calm and forcefully polite. “Sir, the main road is in that direction.” She nodded over his shoulder. “I think you’re lost. Follow the driveway and take a right, and the road will lead you in the direction of the docks.” Emma could see Astrid backing up as the man moved away from the wall and came towards them, making sure that she kept herself between him and Emma. She could smell the strong liquor on him now that he was closer, and it made her stomach turn.

“Oh no, I think I’m in exactly the right place,” he leered. “Perhaps I can get a private show? An encore, if you like, after the curtain falls.”

“Leroy!” Astrid yelled. “Leroy!”

“Oh no you don’t!” The man rushed Astrid against the side of the bin storage, one hand closing around her throat. Astrid scrabbled against him, digging her nails in.

Emma knew that she should run. She had to get Leroy, or Walter, or Jefferson or Gold or _anyone_. She had to get out, but she was frozen to the spot with fear.

“Emma,” Astrid gasped, “run!”

Suddenly, Emma needed no further encouragement; Astrid’s voice was the impetus she needed to get moving and life flooded back into her legs. She set off like a rocket around the edge of the building, careening smack into Walter.

“It’s Astrid,” Emma gasped, “there’s a man attacking her, you’ve got to help.”

“Astrid!” Leroy yelled, running off in the direction that Emma had just come from.

“Hey, hey it’s ok,” Walter said, giving her a hug as Leroy sped past them; for a short and stocky man he was fast when he wanted to be. “It’s ok,” Walter soothed. “Granny!” he yelled over his shoulder. “Call the police!”

At that moment Jefferson and David sped past them at a run, at the same time as Emma heard a blood-curdling scream, and despite Walter’s efforts to get her to stay, she ran off after the men.

In the yard, the sight that met her was not one that she had expected to see. The man who had attacked Astrid was bent double, clutching his crotch with one hand and his nose, streaming blood over his fist, with the other. Leroy holding him from behind and Astrid was panting, her hands held in a classic martial arts pose.

“What did they teach you at that convent?” Walter asked weakly. “Nun-fu?”

Astrid didn’t grace his remark with a reply. In the background, Emma heard Granny talking to the police on the phone. It was all going to be all right.

“Crazy bitch!” the man yelled, his voice nasal. At this remark, Leroy jerked him backwards and the attacker fell down, landing heavily on his rump.

“No-one calls Astrid a crazy bitch,” he growled. “You got what you deserved, sister.”

“But…”

“Shut up!” Astrid screamed. “You want me to kick you again, you creep?”

“Astrid, it’s ok, we’ve called the police,” Jefferson said, going over to her. “It’s over, it’s going to be all right.” Astrid nodded and slowly brought her hands down from her defensive posture. “Come on, let’s get away from this scene and go inside.”

Astrid gave another nod and let Jefferson guide her back inside.

Emma knew that she ought to get out of the situation herself, and she had no doubt that as soon as the others realised she was still there at the back of the group, they would bundle her off back inside, but she couldn’t make her legs work in order to make the journey of her own accord. She was shaking like a leaf, the adrenaline still pounding through her veins, and she felt sick to her stomach at the thought of what might have happened.

“Graham’s on his way,” Granny said, hanging up the phone.

“Granny, I’m so sorry,” Walter began, “we must have missed him, I’m really sorry…”

“It’s all right Walter, rats like this one will take any opportunity they can see.” There was no mistaking the contempt in Granny’s voice.

“Killian?”

Another voice was making its way around the side of the theatre from the main entrance, an unfamiliar one, and Emma jumped as another man came into view, short and stocky and wearing a bright red woolly hat. David moved away from the group and went over to him.

“Sir, you really can’t be in this area, this is for theatre staff only, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“Yes, yes, I know, I’m just looking for my friend…” The shorter man tried to get round David, peering through the dim light. “Killian, where are you? The captain’s going to kill us…”

He tailed off on seeing the sailor on the ground, still staunching his nose, and his friend looked around the theatre staff in horror. “What did you do to him?”

“The question is not what we did to him, but what he did to one of our staff members,” Granny said coldly. “Said staff member merely reacted in self-defence. The police have been called and there is no reason for you to remain here. Please leave, this area of the theatre is not open to the public.”

“Surely there’s been some mistake?” the man said. His voice had a slight worried squeak to it.

“Yes, yes, there’s been a mistake, Smee, tell these people that it was all a misunderstanding.”

At this, the gathered theatre staff simply raised a collective eyebrow, unmoved by the sailor’s words.

“Well, maybe we have had a bit too much to drink, but doesn’t everyone now and then?” Smee wheedled. “I’m sure no harm was meant and I really don’t see the need to involve the police in all of this, I mean, the poor man’s obviously suffered enough…”

“He has assaulted one of my employees and like any other organisation with a customer-facing workforce, we will press charges against anyone who is verbally or physically abusive towards our staff,” Granny said icily.

Smee, sensing that he was not going to be able to talk his way out of this one, began to back up nervously.

“I suggest that you run back to your ship and tell your captain that he will be bailing out one of his crew come the morning,” David said.

“We’re sailing for Malta tomorrow,” Smee began weakly, “surely we can talk about this…”

The wail of a police siren split the night and Emma heard the crunch of tires coming up the driveway towards the theatre; she could just see the flashing lights reflecting off the trees. A few moments later, another set of footsteps heralded the arrival of Graham, the tame policeman, and suddenly everything was hustle and bustle and handcuffs and reading rights and Smee still trying desperately to get everyone to just forget about the whole thing.

Emma sat down heavily in the doorway to the box office, her shaking legs no longer able to keep her on her feet. It was the movement that caught everyone’s eye where she had before been quietly hidden away at the back, and Granny came over to her, giving her a hug.

“I’m so sorry, pet, are you all right?” She stroked Emma’s hair. “You’ve been so brave, love, and we’re so proud of you.”

Emma did not feel brave. She thought of how she had stood frozen whilst Killian grabbed Astrid’s neck and even though it had turned out ok, even though Astrid had been able to take care of herself, she still felt awful about it. It was only now that the events were really catching up to her, and she realised what could have happened.

“Hey there.”

Emma looked up from Granny’s shoulder to see Graham crouched beside them.

“I just want to find out what happened. Shall we go inside out of the cold?"

Emma nodded dumbly and they made their way back into the box office, Leroy following them whilst Graham’s partner took Killian to the police car. As soon as they entered the room, Astrid rushed over to them, throwing her arms around Leroy.

“Oh Leroy, you’re my hero. You saved me.”

“You were doing a pretty good job of saving yourself,” Leroy said, blushing all over his bald head.

Astrid didn’t reply and just pressed her lips against his. Leroy made a squeak of surprise and returned the kiss.

Emma cast a glance over her shoulder at Granny and Graham, who were looking on with fondness and amusement respectively.

Perhaps there was a brief flicker of light in the midst of the darkness that had fallen up on the evening.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

**In which Regina makes a nuisance of herself, we learn a small but important chapter of the theatre’s history, and Emma worries.**

The theatre was completely abuzz with gossip the next morning in the aftermath of the evening's excitement. 'Exciting' was not the word that Emma would have used to describe the events, far from it, but it was still amusing to see how the Chinese whispers had run around the rest of the cast and crew and see how exaggerated the tales of Astrid's heroics had been. When Emma, Granny, and Astrid had returned to the theatre having been to make and sign their witness statements at the police station, they found Leroy sitting in the box office telling Philip and Mulan everything that had happened, and Astrid had gone bright pink and tripped over the umbrella stand when he had described her nun-fu skills.

"It wasn't that dramatic, Leroy," she mumbled.

"Hey, don't put yourself down, sister, you were awesome."

Astrid smiled as she settled herself down in her chair and opened up the box office ready for business.

"Thank you, Leroy."

"Well, I'd best be getting back to work." Leroy went over to Astrid and kissed her hand tenderly. It was really quite sweet to watch, and Emma could bet that no-one would ever have guessed that Astrid - so scatterbrained and fairy-like - and solid, forthright Leroy could have made such an adorable or well-matched couple.

Emma made to follow Granny up the stairs into the main bar area, where Ruby was waiting to hear all about everything that had happened at the police station, but before they could get halfway up the steps, their progress was halted by the theatre doors opening and natural curiosity made Emma turn to see who had entered behind them. She had expected it to be one of the other members of theatre staff or show cast coming in to start their work or rehearsals, and her heart leapt to her mouth when she realised that the person who had entered was not at all a person whom she was expecting to see.

Regina Mills was standing calmly in the foyer, looking around at her surroundings with a mixture of boredom and disgust.

"Can I help you?" Astrid asked through the box office window, although her voice suggested that she wanted to do anything but.

Regina ignored Astrid and instead addressed Granny.

"Ah, Mrs Lucas, I'm glad I caught you. I'd like to have a moment of your time, if I might?"

"You might not, but I'll be civil. How can I help, Madam Mayor?"

Granny did not move from her position halfway up the steps, lending her the height and gravitas over Regina that she needed. Unperturbed by this, Regina came up the stairs, past Emma, at whom she quirked a disparaging eyebrow, to stand on the same step as Granny, accentuating the height difference between the two women. Granny folded her arms, mouth set in a thin line, but she did not give any ground.

"What is it that you wish to speak to me about?" she asked coolly.

"Could we speak privately?" Regina suggested.

Granny shook her head.

"Anything that you wish to say to me can be said out in the open," she said. "I'm not afraid of your words, Madam Mayor."

"Very well. I hear you had some trouble last night, Mrs Lucas," Regina began benignly.

Granny narrowed her eyes. "Nothing that we couldn't handle, Madam Mayor."

"Of course, of course. I just wanted to check that everything is well. After all, rumours of solicitation in one's town are not to be taken lightly."

Granny raised an eyebrow. "Solicitation?"

"Solicitation, Mrs Lucas. I'm sure you know what I mean." She turned and looked over her shoulder down at the box office, her dark eyes landing on Astrid, who glared up at her.

"Well, I can set your mind at ease and reassure you, Madam Mayor, that no solicitation has been taking place, and certainly not by my staff, unless, of course, you include throwing plastic cups into a bin in an area not open to the public to be an act of solicitation." Granny's words were polite, but her voice held a cold challenge, the same challenge that was evident in her eyes. It was obvious to Emma that this was not the first time that such a confrontation between the mayor and the theatre manager had occurred.

"Very well, but there's the small matter of your staff assaulting members of the public."

"I hate to recourse to an age old phrase, Ms Mills, but the member of the public in question started it. Miss Nova was simply acting in self-defence."

"Indeed." Regina did not sound convinced.

"Was there a reason why you came here, Madam Mayor?" Granny asked politely. "Other than to express your concern, which is very noble but ultimately neither required nor wanted."

"Well, naturally I wanted to find out for myself the circumstances of the criminal activity that was going on here last night. As you know I am in close contact with the police force, and I understand arrests were made."

"They were," Granny said. "The perpetrator is safely behind bars and all due processes are being followed. Now, I suggest that if there is nothing more, you let us get on with our jobs. This is a workplace and we have work to do."

Regina looked at Philip and Mulan eating toast in the back of the box office.

"Yes, I can see that."

"Ms Mills, I really don't see that there is any reason for you to remain on these premises," Granny said coolly.

"I'm taking an interest in the workings of my town," Regina replied sweetly. "It would never do to be ignoring any possible trouble now, would it?"

Granny shook her head sadly.

"I have been very polite and very patient, Madam Mayor, since the reason for your presence here is likely simply to provoke a reaction. But after last night, my politeness and patience are becoming rapidly worn out. Get out. You're not welcome here."

The corner of Regina's mouth turned up in a nasty smirk.

"I don't believe you have the power to evict me, Mrs Lucas."

"No, she doesn't. But I do. Now get out before I call the police."

Gold's voice was soft and, if Emma didn't know him to be a complete, if slightly grumpy, teddy bear, she'd say he sounded dangerous. She glanced up at him, standing at the top of the staircase that led up to the bar. From this angle he looked really rather imposing despite his comparatively diminutive stature, but Emma could see that his knuckles were white where they gripped his cane, and his other hand was curled into a fist to stop it shaking.

"This is a public building, Mr Gold, you cannot simply tell me to leave," Regina said calmly.

Gold shook his head. "No, this is a privately owned building which the public have implied permission to enter; it also happens to be my home." he continued. He was talking through gritted teeth; every muscle in his body was tense. "And the owner of the building can withdraw that permission at any time. I own this building, Madam Mayor." He practically spat the words at her. "And I am withdrawing your permission to enter it. Indefinitely. Now get out. Please. And tell Mr Glass that his permission to enter has also been withdrawn."

Regina shook her head.

"You can't do this, Gold." Her voice was steely, determined; she was matching Gold's dangerous tone.

"Yes, he can."

Belle had come up beside Gold and taken his free hand in hers, squeezing his fingers tightly.

"The door is behind you, dearie," Gold continued. "I trust you don't need a map to find it." He paused. "You're trespassing now, Madam Mayor. Don't make us call the police."

Regina turned on her heel, stalking down towards the box office and the exit. She paused as she passed Granny and Emma on the steps, leaning in.

"You're making a very big mistake, Mrs Lucas," the mayor snarled. "You have no idea what I am capable of."

She left the theatre then, and Emma gave a shiver not entirely related to the gust of cold air that her departure blew into the building.

"It's all right pet, she's gone, and she won't be back." Granny put an arm around Emma's shoulders and gave a friendly squeeze before making her way back up the stairs towards the bar and Belle and Gold. Gold had sat down on the top step, and Emma could see that his hands were trembling now. It must have taken him a lot of courage to stand up to Regina like that. All the same, Emma could not help but feel worried. So Regina couldn't come into the theatre now, but that didn't mean that she couldn't still try to hurt them through other means. There had been something so cruel in her voice when she had made her final speech to Granny.

Granny patted Gold's shoulder on her way past him.

"Thank you, Gold. That should keep her out of our hair for the immediate future."

"She'll be back," Gold muttered. "In some way or another. She always is."

Granny gave a melancholy sigh. "I know. She's never going to stop, but we just have to fight each battle as it comes. It's not easy, but we have to stay strong. We can beat her. We've done it before, so many times."

Gold nodded sadly. "She'll win one of these days."

"We can't afford to think like that," Granny said sternly. "This is our home and we'll fight for it, like we always do. We've weathered worse storms than this."

Finally Gold gave a wan smile. "I know. I'm not sure my bank balance can survive another worse storm though."

Emma opened her mouth and tried to think of the best way to word her query. It was time to ask the question that had been bugging her for weeks; that of how Gold had ended up owning the theatre.

"What happened before?" she asked.

Granny laughed. "Gold proved that sometimes money solves all problems," she said. "Until six years ago, the theatre was rented. Six years ago, the owner died, leaving a very complicated will, and the building ended up falling into the hands of the town hall."

"Regina's sticky paws." Gold sighed.

"There was an auction," Granny continued. "We were all resigned to our fate and packing our bags, and then Gold arrived, white as a sheet, and announced that we could all stay put before getting himself a very stiff drink. He'd gone to the auction and bought the theatre."

"All my savings and my inheritance from my aunt," Gold said. "All of it. I've never regretted it. This place is my home, more of a home than I'd had for a long time, and I owe it, and Granny, a lot. I was terrified of what Bae would say when he learned what I'd done as there was no way I'd be able to send him to university now, but I was working on the principle that at the time, it was his home, too. He was a little bit shocked when he first found out, possibly because he never would have believed I'd have the guts to actually go through with it. But he was fine with it."

"It's such a simple story, but it's a rather fundamental chapter of our recent history," Granny said fondly. "We'll ever be grateful to you, Mr Gold."

Gold just smiled, getting to his feet and making his way towards the auditorium after Belle, who had already taken her leave of them. "You're very welcome, Mrs Lucas."

Granny and Emma continued into the bar area, where Ruby was waiting for them to hear about everything that had happened in town. She'd come out from behind the bar on hearing the confrontation between Granny and Regina below, and was peering round a pillar, concealed from view but in a much better position for eavesdropping. Granny rolled her eyes when she saw her granddaughter's hiding place, but she made no remark.

"How did it go?" Ruby asked Emma.

"It was all right. Graham did most of the work, I just had to read and sign."

"Do you need a stiff brandy to get over the experience?" Ruby suggested. Emma said nothing in response, merely raising her eyebrows and patting her tummy. Her bump was a little more visible now, but still not big enough to be undeniably a baby growing inside her. Her ultrasound was still pinned up on the wall in Ruby's room beside the sofa which had become Emma's permanent home, and every night she would look at it and wonder how big her little boy was now. She couldn't wait to have her second scan and see how much he'd grown, but at the same time, she was feeling a slight trepidation. The second scan would mean that she was halfway through her pregnancy, and time was already going so quickly; she didn't want it to be over quite so soon.

Below them in the foyer, there were the sounds of voices; one of them was recognisable as Astrid's but the other was not one that Emma had heard before.

A few moments later, a man wearin navy uniform, the rank insignia on his shoulderboards indicating that he was a captain, had come into the theatre, and Mulan was showing him up the steps into the bar with an expression that was mingled respect for his rank and distaste for the events that had occurred the previous evening.

Granny smiled when she saw the man.

"Captain Jones," she said warmly, and the difference in her reaction to the captain from her reaction to Regina was almost palpable.

"Mrs Lucas. I just wanted to come in person and give my sincerest apologies for the events of last night, the lieutenant's behaviour was inexcusable. You will of course have our full support during the investigation." He sighed. "What makes it worse is that the officer in question is my own brother."

Granny gave a sympathetic smile.

"Thank you for your apology, Captain Jones, but really, I am not the one to whom it should be addressed. Miss Nova can be found in the box office."

"Of course. Still, I apologise for the inconvenience that this has undoubtedly caused you."

Granny nodded. "I appreciate your understanding."

After the captain had left them in the bar and gone down to speak to Astrid in the box office, Ruby let out a loud burst of laughter that she had obviously been holding in all the time that Jones had been speaking to them.

"Granny always loves a man in uniform," she said with a grin, earning herself a swat on the arm from her grandmother. "Hey! It's true! You always pause every time you walk past the fire station in the hopes of seeing some buff young man getting his kit on. Or off. You do realise that they don't all look like your calendars, right?"

"Stop making trouble," Granny said.

"Maybe we should warn Graham," Ruby pondered.

Granny gave a long sigh, opened her mouth to make a further defence of herself and then appeared to think better of it and just shook her head in a gesture of good-natured despair.

"I give up," she said. "I'm going now, before I'm the subject of even more ridiculous slander."

"You love us really, Granny," Ruby called after her retreating back as the older woman followed Captain Jones down into the foyer, no doubt to continue their conversation once he had finished speaking with Astrid.

Ruby laughed, but Emma found that mirth was still a long way from her mind. Ruby noticed her abstraction and her brow furrowed.

"What's up, Em?"

"What's Regina going to do now?" Emma asked plainly. She still could not shake the fear that she had felt and the memory of Regina's words sent a fresh shiver down her spine.

Ruby's happy demeanour dropped and she shrugged.

"There's no way to tell," she said. "There never is. This battle has been going on ever since Regina was elected as mayor, and it'll go on until she steps down, because since she arrived no-one's ever had the guts to oppose her." Ruby sighed and leaned back against the bar, looking up at the ornately decorated ceiling above them. "I don't think she really has a plan," she continued. "Every time she attacks us there's always an element of sudden desperation in it, almost like she gets an idea in her head and decides to implement it straight away. A lot of the time she tries to use shock tactics, like when she tried to get Grace taken by social services, or just now when she accused us of solicitation. It's more to try and get a rise out of Granny than anything else, but it's rare for Granny to rise to anything. She's been around for too long and seen far too much to be shocked by anything, and the more outrageous that Regina tries to be, the more ridiculous she makes herself seem."

Ruby paused.

"The one thing that we have always been able to rely on Regina in the past is the fact that she'll never do anything illegal because it's more than her job's worth. Oh, we're certain that she's abusing her mayoral powers, that's never been in doubt, but actual illegal activity is too dangerous for her. She's sneaky and underhanded, but we're prepared for that. We know the lackeys she uses on her behalf - Sidney, Fae Blue who heads up the WI..."

Emma gave a grunt of distate at the mention of Blue's name, remembering her encounter in the pharmacy.

"And she knows that we have allies of her own. She knows that Kathryn Midas will always defend us, she knows that Graham will always help us out, she knows that we have Archie on our side. She knows we have our own legitimate defence mechanisms. It's easy to try and discredit us, but much harder to discredit other members of the community who aren't associated with us. Gradually we're reducing her sphere of influence, or at least, reinforcing our own."

She sighed and finally looked at Emma. "But you're right. It's all very well us looking back on all the times we've held out against her in the past. The truth is that we just don't know what she'll do. We can't pre-empt her; all we can do is be ready and respond when she does attack. It's too much to hope that we'll finally thwart her once and for all, but hopefully we can make her so desperate that she slips up." Ruby gave a small smile. "There's a phrase, let sleeping lions lie. It works both ways. We never provoke Regina. We go along in our own little way, perfectly happy, and we'd continue in this way even if Regina wasn't here. We let her be. But she persists in poking us and is then surprised when we wake up and bite her hand off."

Emma was still not completely mollified by Ruby's words, but she remained silent. There was nothing that she, or any of the rest of the theatre folk could do except wait and hope. And Emma could hope. Perhaps a few months ago, before she had found this new home, she would not have been able to hope in the same way that everyone else did, but there was something about Maison Rouge that acted as a beacon, fuelling belief and keeping up hope even in dire circumstances. She thought back to the first evening that she had spent at the theatre, when she had first seen that one lighted window in the bar above her as she trudged up the drive, and it had ignited a tiny sliver of hope that perhaps she could find help here. She had found a lot more than help, she had found a home, and a family, and she had found more hope than she had ever had before. Perhaps that was why she was so fearful of Regina. She could not bear to think of anything happening to her home, and to her so newly regained hope.


	13. Chapter 13

**Warning:** This chapter is given over to Belle’s backstory. **Herein there is discussion and description of past domestic abuse**. Please note: **this chapter goes into more detail than Gold’s does.** Gold is a naturally reticent person and does not open up fully to anyone, even those he has known a long time. Belle has taken longer to take the plunge and tell Emma her story, but she is more comfortable with sharing more details. **  
**

**=====**

**Chapter Thirteen**

**In which Belle has a chance encounter with an old acquaintance and tells her tale.**

It had been a very successful night, a full house in fact, and the last audience members were just making their way out of the building past the box office. Emma was helping Astrid to pack up, enjoying watching the people go past and eavesdropping on their thoughts on the show. Finally, the only ones left were a couple of men standing just inside the doors, deep in animated discussion as they waited for their taxi. Emma surmised from the snippets she could overhear that they were brothers, and that one of them was a doctor. Astrid was about to go out and get ready to usher these last patrons out and lock the doors when a shout arrested her progress. 

“Dr Whale!” 

Belle had rushed out into the foyer, and she was grinning from ear to ear. The blond man turned on hearing his name, and his face was puzzled for a moment before he too smiled. 

“Isabella Chevalier.” 

“Actually, I go by my maiden name now. French. Belle French.”

 “I apologise, Miss French. I almost didn’t recognise you. You’re looking well. How are you?”

 “I’m brilliant Dr Whale, thank you. I saw you in the auditorium earlier, and I just wanted to say hello, and thank you. I never got the chance before.”

 “You’re most welcome, Miss French. I’m glad I could help. How are your fingers?”

 “It was three years ago, doctor.” She held up her left hand and waggled her fingers. “They’re fine.”

 “That’s good to hear.” There was a companionable silence for a few moments, then Belle spoke again.

 “Well, I should be off. It was good to see you, doctor. You enjoyed the show?”

 “Very much. Did you?”

 “Oh, I wasn’t in the audience – I’m the wardrobe mistress.”

 “Well I must congratulate your excellent work, it was a beautiful show.”

 “Thank you, Dr Whale.” Belle paused again. “Thank you. For everything.”

 Dr Whale smiled again. “Take care of yourself, Belle.”

 She nodded.

 “I will.”

 The doctor disappeared out of the main doors and Belle stayed gazing after him for a long time. Emma, who had watched the exchange with utter confusion, turned to Astrid. The older woman was sniffling.

 “Oh, I love a happy ending,” she sobbed. Emma’s gaze flickered between Astrid and Belle.

 “I’m missing something vital here, aren’t I?” she said plainly.

 Belle came over to the box office desk, leaning on it as she handed Astrid a paper hankie.

 “A few years ago, Dr Whale saved me,” she said. “I never had the chance to thank him, until now.” Her smile faltered and she looked away, but after a moment her resolve returned and she turned back to Emma. “Emma, I think it’s time you heard my story.”

 They waited until everything was packed up and the rest of the theatre staff had gone home before Belle invited Emma and Ruby into her and Gold’s room. Ruby had heard the tale before, but it was obvious to Emma that Belle’s story was a difficult one for her to retell, and she was going to need moral support. Gold was already sitting reading in the windowseat when they arrived, but he didn’t seem too surprised by Emma and Ruby’s presence.

 “Make yourselves at home,” he said, indicating the bed and the cushions piled up there before putting an arm around Belle, who had immediately curled up on the seat next to him and was hugging the battered teddy bear to her chest. Emma smiled; Mr Ted’s bravery had once again come to the fore.

 There was a long silence whilst Belle fingered Mr Ted’s threadbare ears.

 “You already know I’m married,” she began eventually. “My husband was a man named Gerard. Gerard Chevalier. We were childhood sweethearts, in that sense, if you want to use that word, although there was nothing sweet about Gerry. He was one of the bad boys, all brawn and no brain, so attractive and dangerous. And there was I, bookish little Belle dreaming of knights in shining armour on white steeds sweeping me off my feet. Gerry had leather instead of armour and a motorbike instead of a horse, but I was smitten. I was warned, too, but I was still smitten, and too rebellious and too in love to care. Surely he couldn’t be so bad, I thought. He was always charming to me, and that was what mattered, wasn’t it?”

Belle gave a bitter, hollow laugh.

“I felt so stupid for so long afterwards, knowing that everyone had warned me and I’d ignored them like an airheaded fool. I was meant to be the sensible one, the logical one with all the common sense. Bookish Belle. But at the time I didn’t want to be Bookish Belle. I wanted to be Racy Lacey. That’s my middle name. Isabella Lacey French. I wanted to be Racy Lacey. He was two years older than I was, and I was so thrilled that he’d shown an interest in me at all – the loner, the bookworm, never part of the cliques or usual crowds. Yes, everyone told me that Gerard was no good, but I didn’t listen to them. I was determined to see the best in him. I always see the best in people. It’s my great weakness.”

“Belle, it’s not a weakness. It’s a strength,” Ruby said gently. “You know that. It makes you a lovely person.”

“Indeed, and lovely people are so often doormats,” Belle lamented.

Emma frowned. “You’re not a doormat. You’re lovely, but you’re not a doormat.”

Belle smiled, a small, genuine smile. “Thank you. I wasn’t always as strong as I’ve grown to be. Dr Hopper is a very remarkable man and I have a lot to thank him for.” She traced a pattern through the condensation on the window beside her, lost in thought for a moment before she began her tale again.

“I was eighteen when I got married. It was just before I went away to university and I suppose that should have been my first alarm bell. Gerard wanted to marry me before I went away. He was possessive, worried I’d meet someone else whilst I was studying. Looking back, I realise that even then he was controlling me, and I was blind to it. I was a candidate for a Cambridge scholarship, but Gerard persuaded me to pull out and apply to universities much closer to home. I think that’s why I didn’t pick up on those warning signs at first. Like I said before, he was charming. Persuasive. It didn’t feel like he was forcing me to do anything because all the arguments he presented made so much sense. My dad’s health was very bad, and I needed to be close to home to care for him. The money I saved on university accommodation and the typical student lifestyle, we could put towards our future together. It all made sense at the time.

“Little by little it got worse. I didn’t notice at first. But Gerard always wanted to know where I was, always wanted to account for every moment of my time. If I went shopping on my way home from lectures, he wanted to know exactly where I’d been, who I’d seen, if I’d talked to anyone. He didn’t hurt me, not at that point, and he never accused me of lying – well, at least not to my face. Still, there was something so controlling in his manner, and it unnerved me but I didn’t know how to explain it to people. He never hurt or threatened me, so he wasn’t really causing me any harm, was he? My dad asked me if I was happy, and of course I told him yes, because I didn’t want to worry him in his state of health, but he knew something was wrong, and I eventually told him that the whole thing just didn’t feel right.” Belle sighed. “In hindsight, that was probably the worst thing I could have done, because then Dad talked to Gerard, told him to ease up a bit and let me live my own life. That was the first time that I had ever been truly scared of Gerard. He told me in no uncertain terms that if I had a problem with him, I should tell it to his face, not sneak around behind his back.

“Dad died four months later and after he passed on, things just got worse.”

Belle began to list all the things that had happened after her father had died and she’d lost the other main influence in her life. Gerard had isolated her from the rest of her friends and family: “He said I didn’t need other people, I had him for companionship.” He’d taken away access to her money: “He said that whilst I was studying I wasn’t earning, so the money I was spending was his salary and so he got to say how much of it I spent. He wouldn’t let me touch my own savings or the inheritance I’d got from Dad, either, he said we needed to save that for our future family.” And in the end, he’d made her drop out of university.

“He was obsessed with the idea of our future, of having loads of kids in a big house in the country, and I was going to be a stay at home housewife. He had it all planned out, despite all my plans for becoming a literary researcher. I was going to be a wife and mother, according to Gerard, that was the only career I needed and I didn’t need any qualifications for that.” Belle squeezed Mr Ted close and Gold kissed her scalp.

“In the end it was easier to just acquiesce than to argue.” She gave a long, tired sigh at the memory of the exhausting months of conflict. “Because every time he told me he loved me, I still believed him. Even the first few times he hurt me, he was so contrite afterwards, I thought that maybe it wasn’t so bad, and maybe it was my fault, and maybe if I could only do a bit better and it would all be all right and it wouldn’t happen again. He got in my head and it’s taken me a long time to get him out again. He’s still in there, sometimes. The nightmares don’t go away.”

She broke off then and reached up to touch Gold’s nose lightly. He gave a weak smile. “No harm done.”

“By the end though, I wasn’t thinking like that. By the end I was just plain terrified. All the time.” Belle took off her cardigan and put her hand behind her head to expose the inside of her upper arm. Emma couldn’t help but gasp at the scars all over the soft skin there.

“I’ve got more,” Belle said quietly. “These aren’t the worst. Suffice it to say I’ll never wear a bikini on the beach again.”

The marred skin looked burned, like a web of small circles, and Emma realised with a jolt that they were cigarette burns.

“He was very clever,” Belle continued, her voice subdued. “He never hurt me anywhere that people would see. He never hit my face, never touched my arms below the elbow. He knew I’d be too embarrassed to wear anything that exposed the scars he did leave, and that suited him fine. The more I covered up, the less I was enticing other men.”

“How did you get out?” Emma asked, her voice barely a breath.

“When someone wanted me to,” Belle said simply. “When someone I’d never met before in my life saw that I was a victim and wanted me to get out. Up until that point, no-one fought for me. No-one encouraged me to fight for myself, simply because no-one knew. Up until then, it had always been my dirty little secret, because up until then, I’d always thought that it was my fault, because Gerard had always got it into my head that I’d brought his punishments upon myself. But one day, someone encouraged me to fight.”

Emma smiled. “Dr Whale.”

Belle nodded.

“One day, I was frightened for my life. Gerard had gone too far. He’d gone further than he normally would and I needed to see a doctor. He’d slammed my hand in the car door – it wasn’t the first time but it was the first time he’d broken my fingers. I knew I needed to go to the hospital so I waited until Gerard had gone out then called a taxi to take me to A and E.

“I had to take my jumper off for the x-rays. Dr Whale was the one to set my fingers, and he knew. He saw the marks on my arm there – they weren’t scars back then, they were fresh – and he looked at my fingers and he just knew. He looked at me with such sadness, and asked ‘do you want to tell me what happened?’ I’d already told him what had happened, that I’d shut my hand in the car door, but the question was more than that. There was an unspoken ‘actually’ in there. ‘Do you want to tell me what _actually_ happened?’ He reassured me that everything I told him would be in complete confidentiality, he just wanted to make sure that I was safe.

"I said nothing. Confidential or not, I was terrified of Gerard finding out that I’d told someone about what happened in our marriage. That had been the first lesson that I’d learned, way back when Dad was still alive. Never discuss the marriage with anyone else. So Dr Whale just shrugged and taped up my fingers, and he gave me a pamphlet. It was a discreet thing, ostensibly for the bone clinic, but when it was fully opened out there was a hidden page with domestic crisis helplines on it. I didn’t even say thank you, I just took it and left the room. But when I got out into the waiting room, Gerard was waiting for me. He was playing the concerned husband, so worried about me, and I heard a couple of the nurses cooing about how sweet he was. They wouldn’t have been saying that five minutes later when we got back to the car. He snatched the pamphlet out of my hands and opened it out, and he found the hidden helplines. 

""What did you tell him?" he said. He was practically growling. "What did you tell him?" He smacked my right hand against the open frame of the car door. "Do you want me to break the other hand, you rat?""

Belle broke off and looked down at her hands, rubbing her right wrist as if she could still feel the pain of Gerard's fingers there, thumb pressing into her pulse point. Gold reached across and placed one of his hands over her fidgeting ones, giving a gentle squeeze of reassurance. 

""I didn't tell him anything," I finally managed to say. “I swear. He didn't say anything, he just gave me the pamphlet for the bone clinic." By some miracle, he let go of my hand. Then he took the pamphlet and slowly burned it in front of me. I remember watching the charred pieces fall to the ground, watching my hopes and my one chance of help going up in flames. "There," he said when he had finished. "That'll show doctors who try to put their noses where they don't belong." Then he shoved me into the car and told me he'd deal with me when we got home. His voice was so quiet. He always used to shout, but when he was quiet...  that was what made him more frightening. Just a low voice full of menace. It meant that he was in control - he was always in control - but this couldn't be brushed off by either of us as a temper tantrum. Oh no, he always knew exactly what he was doing and when he was quiet it was more obvious than ever. That was why he was so dangerous. Why I felt so trapped. Everything he did always felt so planned, so pre-meditated, I knew that he would catch me if I tried to run."

Belle sighed and wiped her eyes on the back of her hand; Emma saw the glistening tear tracks that were left there. 

"It's ok, Belle," she said. "You don't have to tell me. I know it's painful for you."

Belle looked up and gave her a small smile. "It's all right," she said. "Because it has a happy ending. I can't stop now, not in the middle of it. Reliving it all... I need to get to the happy ending before I stop." She took a deep breath and continued. "We got home and went inside, and I wanted to go upstairs, because I needed a few moments to myself to steel myself up for whatever was going to happen next. But I didn't get that far. He grabbed my broken hand and the pain was so intense that my legs gave out, and I had to sit down on the steps. 

"Would you care to explain this?" Gerard said, and he pulled something out of his pocket and tossed it onto my lap. As soon as I saw what it was, I knew I was done for."

 "What was it?" Emma asked. 

 "My birth control pills. Gerard didn't know I was on the pill. I kept them hidden in a box of sanitary pads and I don't know to this day how he came to find them. He had a tendency to treat me like a leper when I was on my period and stayed away from anything to do with the menstrual cycle. Way back in school, before things went sour, I remember chasing him around the garden with a tampon. He was terrified, as if he thought he'd turn into a girl if it touched him. I'm getting off topic."

Emma couldn't blame her. She was about to relive being scared for her life, stalling for time was understandable.

"Like I said," Belle began again, "he didn't know I was on the pill. I hadn't discussed it with him. He wanted kids, but when we first married I was barely out of school. I was about to go to university. The last thing I wanted was a baby. And as time went on, well, I knew that there was no way in hell I was bringing a child into the world and making him or her suffer Gerard as a father. But Gerard didn't see it like that. Gerard didn't see my pill as contraception. He saw it as proof of infidelity. Why would I want to prevent myself getting pregnant unless I couldn't be sure of who the father was? And I just sat there, because I knew it was no use arguing. He would never believe me. He had made up his mind and that was that. And he was still holding my broken hand, and I was concentrating on not passing out from the pain. There was no point in telling him that if he never let me leave the house how could I possibly see anyone else? There was just no point any more. So I ignored his words and focused on the pain. 

"Then I saw it. He had his penknife out. He'd cut me before, but rarely. When he took his anger out on me he preferred to hit and burn. He let go of my hand only to grab my hair, and perhaps it was the rush from the pain relief, I don't know, but for the first time I fought. He was stronger than I was though; he banged my head against the banister and I saw stars. He let go of my hair, but I was too dazed to run. The next thing I remember, I felt the blade burning against my throat."

Belle pulled down the collar of her blouse and Emma saw a white burn scar where her neck joined her shoulder. With a shudder, she realised the significance of Belle's preference for high, close collars and polo necks.

""Next time, I'll take your fucking head off," he said. He'd branded me with the knife; it was the first time he'd marked me somewhere less easy to hide. He'd showed the world I was his. And I was terrified. The look in his eyes when he told me he'd have my head... I believed him.

"Every part of me was screaming to get out. Every nerve was screaming in pain, but I was silent. He let go of me and let me go into the kitchen; it was dinner time and it was going to be late because of the hospital visit."

Belle's hands had balled into fists on her lap.

"I went into the kitchen, I got out the heaviest frying pan... He used to lean over me if he wanted to intimidate me, to make his point felt. All I had to do was turn round and smack."

There was silence, all eyes in the little room focussed on Belle telling her story. 

"I floored him and ran. I ran and ran and ran. I was so terrified I’d killed him. I didn't bother to pack any clothes, I didn't bother to take anything with me apart from my handbag which I happened to see and grab. I left my life with five pounds forty-three in change, my diary and a pack of mints. I was half-crazed with pain, and I didn't care. All I cared about was getting as far away as possible." Belle sighed. "And I did. I still don’t know whether he got up again." She paused. "I don't want to know if he got up again."

She leaned into Gold's side, and finally unclenched her fists to bring one hand up and rest it over his heart. Gold stroked the back of her fingers. 

"Time for you to take over the story, love," she said. "I've gone as far as I can go in one night."

Gold smiled at her.

"Belle came to us on Christmas Eve. I didn't know it at the time but she was the best Christmas present I've ever had. Granny found her on the doorstep with the milk bottles and took her in, warmed her up, gave her tea and toast and warm blankets."

"She took one look at me and knew I was a victim," Belle murmured. "She took my coat and scarf and saw the brand on my neck, and there was this moment of silence. But there was no unease in her eyes. Just sympathy. What did you say, Granny? When you first saw it?”

Emma turned sharply to see that Granny had come into the room and was leaning in the doorway, watching the scene.

"Whoever he or she was, love, you're safe from them here,” Granny said softly. “You had that fearful look on your face, I’d seen it before with Gold. I just knew.”

“And I replied “it was a he and I hit him over the head with a frying pan”. And in that moment, I did feel safe,” Belle said. “The theatre's never held any fear for me. It's always held associations of safety."

"Granny warned me away from you," Gold said. "She thought you might be nervous around men so told me to keep my distance for a while. It was just Ruby, Granny, Mary Margaret and I at the time. The family hadn't grown as it is now. So I dutifully kept my distance. But I was drawn to you all the same. You were so broken but so brave, and I knew the feeling because I'd gone through it myself. I just wanted to tell you how brave you were, and how beautiful you were despite the number of times you stared at your neck in the mirror in the costume room. But I still kept my distance. Admired you from afar."

Belle laughed and took up the story thread once more. 

"The irony was, I wasn't scared of you at all. My father had always been a gentle man, he never raised a hand to my mother. He and Dr Whale had shown me that men could be kind and could care. And I could see it in your eyes. You had kind eyes. Eyes that had seen a lot. Much later on I saw that your eyes had once been dead inside, like mine. But I wouldn't force my presence on you if you didn't want it. I watched you watching me. Neither of us made a move but we both felt the connection. You were more scared than I was. I didn't recognise it as fear at first. I thought you were just standoffish."

"An easy mistake to make," Gold admitted. Ruby grinned. 

"You would not believe how much Belle has mellowed you, Mr Gold."

Gold smiled. “And that’s pretty much where the story ends.”

“I found the courage to trust and love again, and I haven’t looked back,” Belle added. “At least, I try not to. We let each other peep over the walls we’d built up, and in time, we decided to take a few of the top bricks off so that we could see each other properly, and then we took a few more bricks off so that we could step over and get better acquainted. And it’s worked, slowly but surely. And it’s Dr Whale that I have to thank for it, in the end. He was the one who gave me the strength and courage to run. Without him, I’d, well, I don’t want to think about where I’d be. I wouldn’t be here, certainly, and I wouldn’t have met you.”

She addressed these final words to Gold, and Emma smiled at the long look that passed between them whilst Ruby and Granny said their quiet goodnights and slipped from the room. Belle’s tale had not been a nice or an easy one to listen to by any measure, and rather a large part of her hoped that Gerard Chevalier had never recovered from the frying pan, but it made her infinitely glad to know that despite everything that they had both been through, the fates had conspired to bring them together here at the theatre, and even though their circumstances had been so bleak, they had found each other and had been able to start afresh from the ashes.

“Thank you,” she said. “For trusting me with your story.”

Belle shuffled off the window seat, relinquishing Mr Ted to Gold, and came across to give Emma a hug.

“You’re very welcome, Emma. You’re one of us, after all.” She paused. “I think the point is that it’s a little like a fairy tale. The times might be bleak but there’s a happy ending. And you can have your happy ending too, Emma. Never let anyone tell you differently.”

Emma went to bed with a small smile of rekindled hope.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S BEEN LESS THAN A YEAR! (By one day, but hey.) Please enjoy the update, if anyone is still reading this.

**Chapter Fourteen**

**In which the prodigal son returns to _Maison Rouge_.**

The phone ringing startled Emma, making her drop her spoon and send milk and cornflakes splattering across the table. She had seen the cordless phone, sitting innocently in its dock on the sideboard next to toaster, but in all her time at the theatre, she had never once heard it ring, and the shrill tone made her jump. She looked at Ruby, whose brow furrowed.

"That's odd," she said, pushing back her chair to go and answer the phone. "We never normally get calls on this number."

She picked up the phone and spoke into it a little warily.

"Hello?"

The voice on the other end was loud, obviously speaking into a mobile, and there was the noise of motion in the background, as if the owner was standing on a busy street.

_"Hello Little Sis."_

Immediately, Ruby's face lost its puzzled aspect and she broke into an ecstatic grin, all but squealing down the phone.

"Bae!"

_"The one and only. How are you Ruby?"_

"Great! All the better for hearing your voice. How are you? Where are you?"

_"I'm on the train. Don't suppose you could get the old man to act as a taxi service?"_

"What do you mean you're on the train?"

_"I mean, I'm on the train."_

"But I thought you were in China! Or riding giant tortoises in the Galapagos Islands!"

_"I was. In China, I mean. But I thought it would be a good idea to come home for a visit before I forget what you all look like. You're still blonde, aren't you?"_

"Bae, you know full well that I have never been blonde."

_"Exactly, that's what I'm talking about. Besides, it's nearly Christmas, and Christmas is a time for family. Seriously though, is my dad about?"_

"It's a Friday morning, what do you think?" Ruby leaned back on the kitchen counter, grinning, and Emma could almost hear Bae's grimace down the phone.

_"Ugh. Better interrupt him anyway."_

Ruby laughed and skipped out of the kitchen in the direction of Belle and Gold's bedroom. Intrigued, Emma hovered in the kitchen doorway, watching.

"Gold!" Ruby called, hammering on the locked door.

"Go away," came the grumbled reply. "Busy."

"It's Bae," Ruby said. She held the phone to her ear, listened, and called again. “He says to damn well put some underpants on and answer him. His words, not mine."

The door opened a fraction and one of Gold's arms appeared, snatched the phone and vanished again, shutting the door in Ruby's face. Emma saw that her friend was not at all put out by the action, in fact she was positively dancing as she made her way back down the corridor and gave Emma a bear hug.

"Bae's coming home!" she said.

"That explains the hysterics then," Granny said dryly, coming out of her room and squeezing past the two girls into the kitchen. "Emma, your cornflakes are going mushy."

Emma let Ruby pull her back into the kitchen, in something of a daze. She had heard about Bae, obviously, and she had seen pictures of him in Ruby's box of keepsakes, and she had read some of his postcards. But he was always spoken about as if his absence was something of a constant, and as such, she had never really given much thought to the notion of him being a living person whom she would actually meet. She returned to her cereal, but it was too wet to be palatable now, so she pushed the flakes around in her bowl whilst Ruby continued to chatter on to her grandmother about Bae. It was quite clear that she idolised the young man she thought of as an adopted brother, and Emma was a little nervous about meeting him. Granny must have noticed her unease, as she smiled and patted Emma's hand.

"I am certain that Bae will love you, and vice versa," she said. "He's one of us through and through, even if he does spend his life going on madcap adventures. There's no reason to fear."

The moment was interrupted by the hurried arrival of a half-dressed Gold in the kitchen, Belle following at a slightly more sedate pace in her dressing gown. Emma was certain that she had never seen the usually quiet and stoic compere look quite so frantic as he tried to put on his waistcoat and tie his tie at the same time as plucking Ruby's chargrilled toast out of the toaster, all while holding the phone to his ear. Belle rolled her eyes and finished dressing him as Gold ended the call with a toast-muffled 'see you in half an hour' and thrust the phone back into its cradle. He kissed Belle's forehead, crammed the rest of the toast into his mouth and sped out the room as fast as physically possible when hampered with a limp as he was.

Belle shook her head in good-natured despair and sat down at the kitchen table beside Granny.

"It's Bae, I'll forgive him the moment of madness," she said, reaching for the teapot.

"You're not going with him?" Emma asked. Belle shook her head.

"No, this is Rum and Bae's time together. Once they get back here, the very nature of how we live and work means that it's hard for them to get any time alone as a family. So the journey from the station is their father-son bonding session. Besides..." She broke off to yawn involuntarily. "It always takes me a couple of cups of tea before I'm fully functional in a morning."

Despite Granny's reassurances, Emma would admit that she was still nervous about meeting Bae. She recognised that he was very important to all the people at the theatre; he was Gold's obviously adored son, Belle's would-be stepson, the older brother that Ruby and Grace never had. Emma wasn't quite sure where she fitted into this picture, and it made her uneasy. She washed her uneaten cornflakes down the sink, but she didn't feel hungry for anything else. Ruby was bouncing around the flat, in and out of her bedroom as she finished getting dressed and eating her toast. Eventually, after what was in reality an hour and a half but which felt like an agonising eternity, Ruby, who had been kneeling on the kitchen counter watching out for the car, squealed and scrambled down, dragging Emma out of the flat with her.

“They’re back!” she called over her shoulder as they ran through the bar where Belle and Granny were sitting. The two women followed them down the staircase into the foyer, and all four of them arrived in the driveway as a dark-haired young man got out of the driver’s seat of the little yellow beetle. He was grinning from ear to ear and as Ruby threw herself at him, he picked her up and spun her round.

“Hello Little Sis,” he said. “Long time no see.”

“Did you miss me?” Ruby asked once her feet were back on solid ground.

“Nope,” Bae replied cheerfully. “Not one iota.”

Ruby pouted. “Did you at least get me a souvenir?”

“Nope. I did take lots of photos though. I’ll blow up a picture of the Great Wall for you and you can pin it on your ceiling next to the _Les Follies_ poster.”

Ruby finally let go of Bae and let him move on to greet the others.

“Hello Belle,” he said fondly, bending to kiss the smaller woman’s cheek. “The old man treating you right?”

“Bae!” she scolded at the endearment. “Never better, thank you.”

“That’s what we like to hear. And you, Mrs Lucas? How’s life treating you and the old bunions?”

“My bunions are none of your business, Baden Gold,” Granny said sternly, but her smile betrayed her happiness at seeing the younger man again, and she hugged him fiercely before giving him a little nudge in Emma’s direction. Emma waved awkwardly, suddenly the centre of attention.

“Hello,” Bae said, holding out his hand. His expression was kind and non-judgmental, and Emma felt herself beginning to relax in tiny increments. “I haven’t seen you in these parts before. I’m Baden, but everyone calls me just Bae.”

“Emma,” Emma finally managed to blurt out her name as she shook Bae’s hand. “Emma Swan.”

“Emma’s been with us just six weeks,” Ruby said. “She’s our new webmaster.”

Bae raised his eyebrows. “You’ve got a website now? Crikey.” To Emma, he added: “Well done for dragging this lot kicking and screaming into the twenty-first century. I’ve been bugging them to do it for years but I don’t know one end of a wifi from the other.”

Emma smiled and took the opportunity to appraise the new arrival a little more fully. He had the same dark eyes as Gold, the same angles in his face, but whilst Gold’s visage was tired and careworn, Bae’s was still fresh and untroubled. Although, having said that… Emma cast a quick glance over Bae’s shoulder at his father, and had to conclude that he was looking a lot younger than he had in the past few weeks that she had known him, as if Bae’s presence had given him a new lease of life.

“Well, Granny and Ruby will see you right,” Bae said, bringing Emma’s attention back to him, “and just ignore Pops, he’s only a grumpy old man.”

“Watch it, my son, or you’ll be sleeping in a hammock in Grace’s room and forced to endure a pedicure and tea parties with the bunnies.”

“I’ve done tea parties with Gracie and the bunnies before,” Bae remarked off-handedly. “And hammocks are cool.”

“I give up,” Gold said gruffly, although Emma could tell that he was having trouble downplaying his joy at having his son back in his life for however brief a period. “Come on, Bae. Maybe you can use your charm to get Alice to make you her famous moussaka when she gets in.”

“An excellent idea.” Bae grabbed his bags out of the back of the car and made to hurry into the theatre after Gold and Belle. He paused and gave Emma another smile as he passed her.

“It was nice to meet you, Emma,” he said.

Emma was just able to reply with ‘likewise’ before he was gone, and she was left with Granny on the steps, Ruby having bounded back into the building, begging Bae to tell her all about his latest adventures.

“See?” Granny said, slipping her arm around Emma’s shoulders and guiding her back up into the building. “I told you that everything would be all right.”

Emma didn’t reply; she still wasn’t sure yet. Bae had been gone for such a long time and he had already fitted seamlessly back into the theatre’s life like that – far from reassuring her, it made her feel more isolated than ever. She didn’t really know what she was supposed to do now – would she be welcome in this family gathering or would she just be a third wheel? By the time they got back up the stairs into the bar area, Ruby was already shoving the furniture around to make a cosy space for them and Belle had disappeared up into the flat to make tea, everyone acting as if this was an everyday occurrence. Jefferson had also emerged from wherever he had been secreted before and had joined in the fray, welcoming Bae back to his home with open arms and his usual irrepressible enthusiasm. For the first time in a long time, Emma felt the same way that she had done when she had first arrived at the theatre – like she was intruding upon a tight knit family and she really did not belong.

She knew better than to run away this time; she knew how much the others would worry about her if she just vanished into the night, and to leave would be to go without any gratitude or appreciation of everything that the theatre folk had done for her. But she still felt like she should not really be here, and as Granny went over to join in the animated conversation which Bae was the heart of, Emma decided to cut her losses, slipping back upstairs and into Ruby’s room. She had no desire to make everyone else feel awkward at her presence when they all were so comfortable around each other. She could busy herself with the website design, after all; she could always use that as the excuse for her sudden absence. Across the hallway in the kitchen, she could hear Belle humming to herself as she collected the tea things, and she wondered if the wardrobe mistress was so happy because her significant other was so happy. Emma gave herself a wan smile in Ruby’s mirror. It was strange to see Gold smile so genuinely and freely, and she wondered if they could persuade Bae to stay a bit longer and make his father’s good mood last as long as possible before he returned to being the quiet, prickly man that Emma had always seen.

Settling herself on her sofa-come-bed, she took up the ancient laptop that had unofficially become hers in the wake of Granny giving the go-ahead to the website, and began to work. It was going to take her a while before anything was anywhere near presentable, but she was doing the best she could with her limited resources. She could still hear the conversations going on the bar area below, with the occasional peal of raucous laughter. Presently there were more exclamations, and Belle surmised that Alice must have returned from her errands in the town and the ritual of hugging, welcoming back and asking about what Bae had been up to during the past months was repeated once more. Emma stuck her earphones in and turned the volume on her online tutorials up to maximum.

She almost didn’t notice the soft tapping on the doorframe and when she did realise what it was, she wondered who it could be. Ruby never knocked when entering her own room; Granny, Alice and Belle all announced their presence verbally; Gold knocked with his cane handle which made a distinctive sound, and Jefferson had a tendency to play tunes with his knuckles on the wood. She looked up to see Bae leaning into the room.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding,” he said. “I was wondering where you’d gone to.”

Emma pulled her earphones out and bit her lip, a little embarrassed, but nonetheless feeling something twist happily inside her at knowing that despite their brief acquaintance, Bae had still noticed that she was missing from the crush of people downstairs.

“Yeah… I just didn’t want to get in the way, you know.”

Bae raised an eyebrow. “Why ever do you think that you would be getting in the way?” he asked, before adding: “May I?” and indicating the interior of the room. Emma nodded and he came in, sitting down on Ruby’s bed opposite her. Now that he was here, apparently having sought her out, her previous excuses seemed somewhat flimsy.

“I… I had to get on with this,” she said flimsily, patting the laptop lid, but she could already tell that Bae was not convinced.

“Considering no-one else in the theatre’s been working all morning, I really don’t think that Granny’s such a slave driver as to keep your nose to the grindstone in these rather unusual circumstances,” he said. “She’s lamented that my homecoming brings the theatre to a halt every time, but she’s never yet actually done anything about it.”

Emma gave a snort of laughter. “I suppose… I just… Like I said. I didn’t want to get in the way. This is your family time and I’m, well, not. Family, I mean.”

“Well, if you’re being pedantic, Belle, Ruby, Granny, Alice, Jeff and Gracie aren’t family either,” Bae pointed out. “Especially in Belle and the Milliners’ case, they’ve all been in your position – the ones on the outside looking in. You might be a new addition to the family, but you’re still a part of it. I’ve been hearing all about you downstairs.”

Emma paled. “Oh dear.”

Bae just laughed. “There’s no need to be quite so worried. What I mean to say is that this time last year I was having this same conversation with Alice and Grace. You might not have been here very long and I might not have known you as long as some of the others here, but this is still your home and your family as much as it is mine – possibly more so since you’re here for far more weeks of the year than I am and you’ve only just arrived. There’s no reason suddenly to feel like you don’t belong anymore.”

Emma sighed.

“It’s all very well you saying that,” she began. “You’ve come back and you instantly belong here despite having been away. You fit so well here…”

“Because I grew up here,” Bae said levelly. “You just haven’t had the same chance to grow yet, that’s all.”

Emma glanced down at her stomach even though she knew that was not at all what he meant.

“Come on,” Bae said cheerfully. “Alice is making moussaka and I don’t want you missing out on lunch. Ruby’s worried about you enough as it is.”

Emma smiled and put her laptop to one side, following Bae through into the kitchen.

“Found her,” he announced to the others who were gathered there. Ruby waved and sidled over as Bae was seconded into helping set the table (“honestly, I’m back two minutes and already you put me on hard labour”).

“Are you ok?” she asked. “I felt so bad when I didn’t realise you weren’t there… I guess I got carried away a bit.”

Emma shrugged. “It happens. I just didn’t want to be in the way.”

“Why would you think that?” Ruby asked, completely innocently, and Emma had to smile at her words, so similar to Bae’s. The way that she had been accepted as a part of the furniture already, even by one of their number who had only known about her for a couple of hours, was really quite endearing, and as she sat down at the table to eat, the others including her in their conversations effortlessly, as if she had never been absent, she realised something.

This was what this family was all about. Bae had been incorporated seamlessly back into their lives and their conversations (well, almost seamlessly, he kept having to be brought up to speed on the latest happenings in the town, like the fact Mary Margaret and David were finally married and Ariel was dating yet-another fisherman) – and so had Emma when she had first arrived. So were all of the other theatre folk whenever they came in from their own homes. Everyone was welcome here; everyone was loved, and no-one was ever made to feel like they didn’t belong, so there was no reason for her to make herself feel like she did not belong. It was more than a family in a way, more like a community. Like Granny had said to her once: people never truly left Maison Rouge once they had been a part of it. 


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen**

**In which Bae and Emma get to know each other, and Cara imparts some words of wisdom.**

It had been almost a week since Bae had returned to the theatre and he had well and truly become part of the furniture - to the extent of him accidentally being sat on when Grace had not realised that the sofa he was sleeping on in their small living room was occupied. He’d slipped into the theatre’s routine unobtrusively, performing whatever odd jobs Leroy and Walter needed help with, and more than happy to stand outside in the cold to prevent any trouble, earning himself Walter’s undying gratitude. The only substantial difference that his presence had made was in Gold’s demeanour. The “grumpy old man” seemed to have a new lease of life now, bounding around the place as if his mangled ankle was a mere scratch and smiling fondly, occasionally sharing stories of Bae’s childhood. It was as if the years of hardship that he had endured simply fell away in Bae’s presence.

It was a Thursday, and the theatre was quiet. Ruby had gone out to meet Archie - and Emma was inordinately pleased with how well that little relationship that she had helped to facilitate appeared to be progressing. Belle and Granny had gone grocery shopping. Grace’s school had broken up for the Christmas holiday and the Milliners had gone on a family Christmas shopping trip to the next town. Emma had not yet asked about Christmas arrangements. She knew that the theatre would close over the festive period to allow its staff the opportunity for a proper celebration, but beyond that she didn’t know how everyone fitted in.

Emma had been left alone in the flat with Bae and his father, who were sitting in the kitchen when she popped her head around on smelling bacon. Well, Gold was sitting at the table; Bae was in fact standing at the stove cooking the bacon.

“You’re a bright young thing, Bae,” Gold was saying as Emma entered. “You should be used to late nights!”

“That may be,” Bae countered, waving the spatula in his father’s direction and splattering the floor with grease, “but I am still suffering from jetlag.”

“I think it’s more likely that you’re suffering from one too many of Ruby’s pina coladas last night,” Gold said dryly, “but I’ll let it slide. China is very far away, after all.”

“Exactly.” Bae turned back to the frying pan and in doing so saw Emma in the doorway. “Morning, Emma. Bacon sandwich?”

Emma nodded. She’d already had breakfast much earlier in the morning when her baby had woken up with a craving for Sugar Puffs, but she could never turn down an offer of bacon.

“You know, it’s a very good job that none of us are vegetarians,” Bae mused, plating up the sandwiches and bringing them over.

“Well, it is if you’re going to be cooking,” Gold said. “The only thing you know how to make is bacon sandwiches. And instant soup.”

“Both of which are incredibly nutritious.” Bae paused. “That is one thing I do enjoy about coming home. Granny and Alice and Mary Margaret’s cooking. Even Jefferson makes a half-decent lasagne. I must gain at least two stone every Christmas.”

“Sometimes I wonder how you’ve survived so long on your own,” Gold muttered, stirring his tea.

“Sheer determination to see the world.” Bae grinned. The room fell into silence for a while as they ate their sandwiches, and Emma watched the interplay between the two men. For all that Bae and his father did not see each other often, certainly not as often as Gold would like, there was no awkwardness between them. They had slipped back into the close father-son bond that they had always shared, and it made her smile to see it. After she had learned of Bae’s existence, Gold had spoken to her about him often, and now she got to see that relationship first hand. It was heart-warming in a way, and Emma was content to watch them banter back and forth, learning more about them both in the process.

Suddenly the doorbell in the kitchen buzzed, alerting them to the fact that there was someone at the main doors below, and Bae raised an eyebrow. “Are we expecting visitors?” he asked, getting up and going towards the stairs to let whoever in whoever was asking for entrance.

Gold shrugged, but Emma’s heart leapt to her mouth, beating painfully, her throat constricted around any words that tried to form. She got up and sped out of the kitchen after Bae, and she could hear the tap of Gold’s cane indicating that he too was on his way to investigate the new arrival. In all the excitement that had accompanied Bae’s homecoming, she had completely forgotten that today was her next midwife appointment and the person behind the door would be Cara. Her pregnancy was one thing that had not been mentioned at all, and she was still at the stage of being able to hide her growing tummy beneath thick sweaters and hoodies.

She pushed the nervousness down, trying to tell herself that it really didn’t matter to her what Bae’s reaction to this news would be. It wasn’t any of his business, and nor were his thoughts any of hers. All the same, they had been getting on so well, and now the elephant in the room was about to be introduced. It made her worry, wondering whether it would rock the proverbial boat.

“Bae!” she heard Cara’s voice exclaim. “It’s been a long time, young man. How are you? How’ve you been? _Where’ve_ you been?”

“I’ve been all over the place, Cara. It’s good to see you again, if a little unexpected. Don’t tell me that Dad and Belle have been hiding something from me?”

“No, no.” Cara laughed. “I’m here to see Emma.”

“Come on in, by all means. She’s upstairs. Emma!” Bae called up to the bar. “You have a visitor!”

Emma peered around the bannisters and returned Cara’s wide grin with a small smile of her own as the midwife jogged up the steep staircase towards her. It was impossible not to have some of Cara’s inherent optimism rub off on her.

“Hi Emma,” she said as she got closer. “You’re looking well. You’ve got a nice healthy glow in your cheeks that you didn’t have last time, and I’m very glad to see it.”

Emma nodded. Regular meals and a nice safe place to stay with people looking out for her had worked wonders. “Let’s go up and get a little more privacy,” Cara suggested, moving towards the door up to the apartment above. Emma wondered how she knew her way around before remembering that she had looked after Ashley here during her pregnancy as well and was no stranger to the theatre. “Do you want anyone with you? Is Granny about?”

Emma shook her head. “I’m ok.” She trusted Cara, and she felt more at ease here in the theatre than she had in the hospital. As they went up the stairs, Emma caught a strain of Gold and Bae’s conversation.

_“Why didn’t you tell me Emma was expecting?”_

_“It’s hardly my information to share, Bae. It’s up to Emma to decide who is and isn’t told these things.”_

She couldn’t hear any more and tried to put it to the back of her mind. All the same, she thought that perhaps it was a marker of her having been accepted into the little group. When she had first arrived no-one had shared any details of another resident’s past, and in turn, Gold was not sharing hers.

“So how’ve you been getting on?” Cara asked once they were snugly ensconced in Ruby’s room.

“All right,” Emma said. “Things have been much better now that the morning sickness has stopped. I don’t really have any desire to run in on Gold in the shower again.” Cara raised an eyebrow. “Well, it was a close-run thing. I’m craving tomato soup and Sugar Puffs. Not at the same time.”

Cara shrugged. “Well, Sugar Puffs in tomato soup wouldn’t be the weirdest craving I’ve ever known. I had a lady who started eating soap once.”

Emma made a face. “Really?”

“Really. Hormones make you do very strange things. Lie back on the bed, love, and get comfy. I’ll let your heart calm down from the walk up the stairs before I take your blood pressure. Let’s have a look at your bump then. You’ll be starting to show soon.” Emma grimaced but Cara just chuckled. “Oh, you’re a skinny thing, you’ll be back to normal soon enough, although I’m glad to see some more meat on your bones. When I was going through your first test results I was a bit worried that you were malnourished, anaemic.”

“I’m not worried about my figure,” Emma said. That was never something that had been a particular concern of hers; she’d never had the luxury of being able to fret about what she ate. “I just like being able to hide.”

Cara gave her a sympathetic smile and squeezed her hand where it rested on top of her rounded abdomen.

“Belle’s a very talented seamstress,” she said. “I’m sure she can run you up a couple of coats that will hide you till June if you want them to. But I think - well, I hope - that as time goes on and you grow in confidence as well as your baby growing in size, you won’t think it necessary.”

Emma sighed. “I’m not sure.” There was a long pause. “Bae didn’t know.”

Cara grimaced. “Oh, I’m sorry love.”

“It’s ok… I just haven’t got round to telling him. I was just getting to know him, you know?”

“It is a pretty big bombshell to break to someone you’re just beginning a friendship with,” Cara conceded. “I don’t know Bae very well; I met him a few times last year when I was visiting Ashley. But I do know that you’re a young woman who has been through a lot, and you deserve the best of friends and acquaintances for the rest of your journey into motherhood.”

Emma looked away, embarrassed. “I just don’t know what he’s going to think.”

“Well, I’m no mind-reader,” Cara said, her voice matter of fact. “But considering where we are and the people you both call friends and family, I don’t think you have anything to be worried about on that score.”

“I know.” Emma’s eye caught the top drawer of Ruby’s dresser that she had loaned to Emma for her own things, wherein sat the little green sleepsuit that she had bought at the pharmacy prior, and the altercation with Fae Blue that had occurred. She was so used to being judged that her reaction to meeting new people was second nature. She had always grown up so defiant, not caring what people thought about her. For the majority of her formative years she had simply played into their expectations of her. Foster kid, no prospects, abandoned, bound to be from bad blood. They told her she was worthless and no good, so she had done her utmost to live up to their biased view of her because she knew that however much she tried to be good and tried to dispel those myths about her, the stereotypes would always prevail.

Labelling theory, she’d read once in a book when she was camping out in the library before she’d come to Storybrooke. Give a dog a bad name and shoot it.

As she’d got older, though, Emma had come to the realisation that in the end, it didn’t matter what she did - people simply didn’t care about her enough to care about what she did or the way she behaved. She’d already been written off by dint of her birth right, so she had slipped away into the shadows. Finding herself among people who didn’t care about the past but did care deeply about her present and future had given her a sense of self-worth that she had not felt for a long time, and now that she had that, she didn’t want to lose it and as such she felt far more strongly about other people’s opinions. Especially Bae’s, for some reason. Maybe because she’d already heard so much about him; maybe because they’d been getting along so well of their own accord.

She felt Cara squeeze her hand again.

“As I tell my girlfriend whenever someone stares at us holding hands in public, anyone who decides to judge anyone negatively based on society’s rules and expectations is a fool. Anyone who judges you, Emma, before they have met you fully and discovered what a brave and lovely young lady you are, is a fool, and I feel sorry for their ignorance. So don’t you fret, and let’s see how your little one’s getting on it there.”

Emma let Cara get on with the main purpose of her visit, and she thought about the older woman’s words. She did not think that Bae would judge her. That wasn’t really the worry. She just didn’t know what the reaction was going to be at all. She thought about Fae and Regina and their blinkered hatred. Cara had said that she felt sorry for them, and in a way Emma did too - they would never know the community and togetherness that she herself had found here in the theatre. But at the same time, it was hard to feel any kind of sympathy for people who made her by turns so incandescently angry and upset.

“How can you be so calm about it all?” she asked eventually, whilst Cara was taking her blood pressure.

The midwife smiled. “I’ve been around a bit longer than you have, that’s all. It’s not easy. But I’ve found that as long as I have a support network, I can get through. And I hope the same will hold true for you.” She started putting all her equipment back into her bag. “I’m glad to say that everything is progressing exactly as it should,” she said. “So keep taking care of yourself in the way you have been doing, and you should continue swimmingly.”

They continued to talk about the pregnancy for a while and Emma put all thoughts of Bae and of the moral crusade to the back of her mind until it was time for Cara to leave for her next appointment.

Bae was alone in the kitchen when Emma came back up into the apartment from showing the nurse to the door.

“Everything all right?” he asked lightly. Emma nodded. “Glad to hear it.”

There was a slightly awkward silence.

“So… yeah,” Emma said eventually. “I’m pregnant. I kind of forgot you didn’t know because everyone else does.”

Bae shrugged. “Well, I wouldn’t have guessed,” he said. “You don’t look it at the moment. I mean, when I first met Ashley last year it was only three weeks before she gave birth so it was a bit hard to hide.” He tailed off. “I’ll stop talking; you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want.”

“No, it’s ok.” She could almost tell what was going through Bae’s head. She was here in a place for lost and runaway souls, and he had no idea what circumstances might have driven her here or whether they were linked to her pregnancy. “It wasn’t exactly, well, _planned,_ but there’s nothing traumatic about it.” She paused. “The father doesn’t even know.”

Bae nodded. “So when’s the big day?” he asked.

“Beginning of June.” Emma paused. “It seems so far away and yet… not. I’m torn between being excited and being absolutely terrified.”

Bae chuckled.

“Don’t be terrified,” he said. “Well, that’s all very well for me to say, I’m not the one undergoing this rather life-changing event. But we’re all here to help.”

He was so calm and accepting of the whole situation, and Emma began to relax.

“For the record,” Bae began again, “I think you’re very brave.”

Emma blinked. Of all the adjectives that could have been used, that wasn’t one that she would ever have used to describe herself, not when she was feeling so scared of the future.

“I already told you I was terrified,” she said. “How can I be brave?” She paused. “You’re brave. Going off on your own and seeing the world.”

“Well, you know what Belle says. Do the brave thing and bravery will follow. Bravery isn’t the absence of fear. That’s foolishness. Bravery is feeling the fear and pressing on and doing it anyway.” He shifted his chair a little closer to Emma’s, giving her a sympathetic smile. “Honestly, the first time I left the theatre to go to America I was really tempted to just turn straight round and come back in again. But I’d seen what fear had done to Dad, and I’d seen that he could press through and take a leap of faith, so I did too. And I don’t regret it.”

Emma nodded. “I don’t regret my decisions either, but I’m not entirely confident in them all the time.”

“Believe me, you’re not alone in that feeling. But all the same, I think you’re very brave.”

Emma smiled. “Thank you.”

They lapsed into silence for a few minutes.

“Were you scared when you left your old home to come here for the first time?” she asked.

Bae shook his head. “No. I knew where I was coming and I knew I was doing the right thing. And I knew that I’d be reunited with my dad at the end of it, so no. That was the one time when I wasn’t scared. I’d been planning it for so long that there was too much anticipation to be scared. The look on Tina’s face when I turned up in the box office was priceless though. In hindsight I probably should have called ahead, but I just wanted to get here.” He paused. “I’ve seen Dad cry a lot, more than anyone should have, but I think everyone in the theatre was crying then. And laughing.” He shrugged. “You just remember those moments, I guess.”

“Is this home for you, then?” Emma asked. “The theatre, I mean.”

Bae didn’t respond for a long time, then nodded.

“Yes. When I think of coming back here, I do think of it as coming home.”

Emma tilted her head on one side.

“You don’t sound too sure.”

Bae leaned back in his chair.

“I don’t know. In my mind, home is somewhere that you want to stay. But I’ve got itchy feet and I never stay in one place too long. Home is a place where there’s something to stick around for.” He gave a snort of laughter. “That sounds terrible, since Dad and Belle and Ruby and everyone are all here and it makes me sound like I don’t think they’re worth sticking around for.”

“Yeah, but they all want you to be happy and you’re happy travelling. I’ve seen the map in your dad’s room. You’ve been to so many places.”

“He has a map?”

“Didn’t you know?” Emma smiled. “Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything about it. He’s got a map and he marks all the places you’ve been.”

“Woah.” Bae gave the table an impressed nod. “I’m… I’m not entirely sure how that makes me feel to be honest.”

“It’s on the back of the door.” Emma got up. She would never normally venture into Gold’s domain like this but Bae’s presence increased her confidence. “Come on. He won’t get mad at you for sneaking in.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Bae chuckled as he followed Emma out of the kitchen. “I know he loves me but he’s not a pushover.”

Belle and Gold’s door was ajar rather than closed and there was no response to their knock, so they slipped inside and Bae gazed in wonder at the back of the door and the world map tacked there, along with all the postcards.

“Did you honestly have no idea?” Emma asked.

“Well, I got the feeling that he kept the postcards, but I didn’t know about this,” he said, indicating the map.

“You’ve been all over.” Emma looked at all the pins. “Where’s your favourite place?”

Bae traced his fingers over the pins, looking at each of his destinations in turn.

“Tallahassee,” he said eventually. “I know it’s not the first place you might think of, but if for some terrible reason I didn’t have Dad and Maison anymore, that’s probably where I would eventually call home.”

“Interesting.”

“Indeed.” The door swung open a little and Gold poked his head around it, raising an eyebrow. “You know, I’m not even going to ask.”

Emma looked from father to son and back again. “I’ll leave you to your own devices.”

Gold opened the door wider to let her out and entered the room himself, and Emma hung around in the corridor for a moment. She wasn’t usually one for eavesdropping but she realised in that moment that just as Cara had inadvertently revealed something Bae did not know about Emma to him, so she had revealed something that Bae did not know about his father, and knowing how nervous she had been about her own revelation, she wanted to make sure that all was well. True, maps and pregnancies were not the same thing by any manner or means, but the principle remained the same.

“I see you’re becoming quite the cartographer, Pops,” Bae said.

“Well, you will keep jetting off to far-flung places. I need some way of keeping track, my memory’s not what it was you know.”

There was a pause.

“Do you ever want me just to come home and settle down?” Bae asked presently.

“Good grief no!” Gold said. “I won’t deny that it would be lovely if you came home on a permanent basis. I won’t deny that I worry about you when you’re away. But for as long as you have a dream to follow, I would much rather that you followed it. You’re a brave, independent young man, and I wouldn’t change that for the world.”

Emma smiled and moved away quietly back towards the kitchen, leaving Bae and Gold to talk in peace.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen**

**In which Regina stirs trouble again, and the Maison Rouge community prepares for Christmas.**

It was the twenty-third of December and the theatre had officially closed for Christmas. It was the first time since Emma had arrived that the main doors had remained locked all day. Those who were resident in the theatre weren’t expecting any visitors, and everyone else would be preparing for the holiday in their own family units.

Emma was in Granny’s room, wrapping her Christmas presents. The theatre folk didn’t really exchange gifts except amongst individual family groups – Ruby and Granny; Belle, Gold and Bae; and the Milliners – but to keep a sense of community between the residents, they held a five pound secret santa, exchanging gifts on Christmas afternoon in the bar after having gone to Mary Margaret and David’s for lunch.

“We all take something to contribute towards the meal,” Granny was explaining. The older lady was also in the room, sitting at her dressing table wrapping up Ruby’s presents. “Even if it’s just chairs.”

Emma had to laugh. She was wondering just how Mary Margaret and David were going to fit nine extra people into their little flat.

“Oh it’ll be a squeeze, but we normally manage it,” Granny said cheerily, wrestling a hand-knitted scarf and matching mittens into shiny paper, ready to be gifted to Ruby in two days’ time. The scarf had decided that it didn’t want to be wrapped up and kept slithering out of the packaging, much to Emma’s amusement. Finally Granny gained the upper hand and the present was successfully cocooned.

Emma’s recipient was Belle, and she’d bought the other woman a huge stack of books that the library had been selling off from their old stock at fifty pence a pop. Some of them were a bit dog-eared and watermarked, but Emma and Ruby had spent hours in the library the previous day picking out the ones in the best condition, and Emma knew Belle well enough to know that once she opened the book and read what was on the pages, the state of the cover would be completely irrelevant to her. She was wrapping the books in pairs and tying the whole lot together with ribbon, and whilst the parcel was ending up rather unwieldly, it was still behaving better than Granny’s mittens had. Granny had Grace as a recipient, and had got the girl a kit for growing her own Venus flytrap.

“Do you think it’ll grow big enough to swallow the mayor?” Emma mused as she watched Granny wrap up the little box. The older woman snorted.

“I think that might be wishful thinking, but stranger things have happened.”

Emma finished tying the ribbon on her gift for Belle and sat back, leaning against Granny’s bed, giving a long sigh as her thoughts threatened to pull her into a despondent spiral.

“Why does she hate us all so much?” she asked.

“Because she’s a narrow-minded idiot,” Granny replied without looking up from writing gift tags. “Just ignore her, all the rest of us do.”

“Doesn’t it ever get you down, though?” Emma pressed. “Constantly having her on your heels, constantly having to defend yourselves and this place?”

Granny glanced over at her at last and gave the younger woman a sympathetic smile, looking knowingly over the top of her spectacles.

“Honestly, Emma? Yes, it does. I’ve had more than my fair share of moments when I want to just pack the whole thing in and retire to somewhere far, far away from here. There are days when it is just sheer willpower that keeps me going. But those are fewer and further between than ever, because we have built up such a support network both within the theatre and outside it. Yes, it can be draining, having Regina always on the prowl, and it is tiring having to stay one step ahead of her all the time. But that’s why there are so many of us. That’s why we make a point of cultivating our allies carefully. In this way, the burden of her presence is shared, and it’s a great weight off my mind knowing that I don’t have to face her alone.”

Emma smiled wanly. “You always seem so fierce; you didn’t take any nonsense from her when she came after Astrid’s attack. I would never have guessed that you’re just as scared of her as I am.”

Granny chuckled. “Oh no, love, I’m not scared of her. I’m angry with her and exasperated with her, but I’m not scared of her, or her threats.”

“Aren’t you scared that one day she’ll make good on them, though?”

“No. And do you know why? Because I don’t have time to be.” Granny got up from the dressing table where she had been wrapping and came over to Emma, sitting down on the bed and taking the girl’s hands in hers. “I’d get down on the floor with you but I don’t think my knees would forgive me for it in a hurry,” she commented. “I find that there’s very little point in being afraid of what Regina might do to us if we don’t turn that fear on its head and use it. It’s fine to be scared, and I’m not saying that you’re wrong to be. But fear doesn’t get us anywhere. If we spend our time afraid of what she might do, then if she does it, we are in no better position, our fear has gained us nothing except the ability to say ‘I told you so’. But if you take that fear and use it to your advantage, then you can put things in place to protect yourself against that fear. The fear makes us productive; it drives us. And in the end, we simply aren’t afraid anymore because we’ve used that fear to make sure that we’re prepared for if, God forbid, the worst happens.”

She squeezed Emma’s hands. “I’m not saying that we’re prepared for every eventuality. But there’s no point in fearing outcomes that you cannot control, and if you fear outcomes that you can control, then you can take steps to control them. And that makes life a lot easier to live.”

Emma nodded slowly. “I guess.”

“I know you’ll have heard this from several other sources, but the fact that we all have a few years on you helps. As Gold says, our experiences shape us. You’ve had a multitude of experiences in your eighteen years but with seventy birthdays under my belt, I think I can still hold a few more than you. You’re young, and you’re new here, and you’re still dealing with your own personal fears and demons.”

“It’s just that this is the first home I’ve ever known.” Emma was ashamed of quite how small her voice sounded, but it felt good to be able to say the words, to admit out loud that she was here and she belonged.

“Of course you’re going to be scared of losing it,” Granny said gently. “And I suppose, deep down, that fear will never go away. But you don’t need to be afraid on my behalf, pet. You’ve got enough to worry about. I think in times like these it’s good to be a bit selfish. You focus on working through your own fears and doubts, and leave Regina and the theatre to me.”

“Is she ever going to stop, do you think?”

Granny shrugged. “Only time can tell that one, I’m afraid.” She stood up, giving Emma a hand off the floor. “Now, enough about Regina. It’s Christmas time and if she’s not too busy wrapped up in creating her own perfect family Christmas then I’ll give up all hope of the woman ever turning out to be a conventional human being. I’m semi-convinced that she’s an android, although I’m not sure androids have such a good taste in power suits.” She paused. “It’s time for us to forget the world outside and pretend it doesn’t exist for a couple of days. Belle and Gold have already done a very good job of that this morning.”

They met the pair as they were leaving the room opposite, and Belle blushed bright red at Granny’s words.

“Ah well, at least it’s not as bad as the time that you went frolicking in the snow.”

“Mrs Lucas, please, let’s not discuss that.” Gold’s voice was pained, but Granny knew when to take a step back and she just winked at him.

“At any rate, now that you have presented yourselves to the world, I don’t suppose we could make use of your technical expertise to get the projector set up? It’s tradition, after all.”

Gold nodded. “Of course. And I solemnly promise not to blow the power.”

Belle giggled behind her hands. “Poor Sean. You’re never going to let him live that down, are you?”

“Never. Now, let’s see where my son’s got to.”

“Last I checked he was teaching Ruby to play blackjack in the bar,” Granny said. “So knowing Ruby’s beginners luck when it comes to card games, she’ll have cleaned him out and they’ll now be attempting to recreate the world’s greatest mixologists and causing a great big mess.”

When they reached the bar, Bae and Ruby were neither inventing new cocktails nor playing backgammon. They were in fact creating the largest card house that Emma had ever seen, which promptly fluttered down around them when the door to the apartment swung shut behind Gold, creating a slight breeze. Bae looked over at his father with narrowed eyes.

“Hours of work, that was!”

“I apologise. May I ask, though, what was the purpose of the giant card house?”

“What’s the purpose of anything?” Bae replied, before seeming to forget the cards altogether and completely changing the subject. “Are we still having Christmas movie night?”

Granny nodded.

“Excellent! Can we order pizza? And we’ve got to have _Home Alone_. And _The Nightmare Before Christmas_.”

“That’s a Halloween film!” Ruby exclaimed.

“It’s a Christmas film!” Bae countered. “It’s got Christmas in the title!”

“Yeah, but the main theme song is _This Is Halloween_!”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I am! All right then, if you want _The Nightmare Before Christmas_ then I get _The Holiday_.”

“That’s not a Christmas film!”

“Yes it is! It takes place at Christmas time!”

“Yeah but it’s not _about_ Christmas!”

“All right, all right. If you continue at this rate we’ll have to start the film-fest now in order to get through everything.”

Ruby and Bae paused in their critique of each other’s film choices long enough to look over at Granny with surprise, as if they had forgotten the presence of the others in the bar entirely.

“Well, we’re not doing anything tomorrow, right?”

Granny gave a good-natured snort of laughter. “True enough. Why don’t you young things go and stock up on some snacks for us all whilst the rest of us do the boring jobs of getting the projector set up and making dinner.”

The two warring ones gave in with good grace, and along with Emma they made their way through the theatre and out of the back entrance by the box office. As soon as they were outside in the chilly winter air, however, the argument began again.

“I still maintain that _It’s a Wonderful Life_ doesn’t qualify as a Christmas film.”

“What? It’s the most classic Christmas film of them all!”

“Yeah, but most of it has nothing to do with Christmas!”

“I can’t believe I’m hearing this sacrilege!”

“What about _Muppets Christmas Carol_?” Emma suggested.

“Oh yes,” Bae and Ruby replied in unison, grinning.

“Yes, we always have _Muppets Christmas Carol_ ,” Ruby continued.

“It’s Dad’s favourite,” Bae added in a stage whisper. “But don’t tell him I told you that. He’ll only deny it. But just you wait, he’ll be humming _There’s Only One More Sleep Till Christmas_ all day tomorrow.”

Emma had to laugh at the image of Gold humming Muppets’ Christmas tunes. Although Bae’s arrival had uncovered a brand new side of the man, she thought that might be going a bit too far.

“Popcorn?” Ruby asked as they neared the corner shop. “And wine gums for Granny, obviously. And Belle will want mint choc chip ice cream. Peanuts for your dad, Maltesers for Grace… What else will we need?”

“Tortilla chips…” Bae tailed off, stopping in his tracks, and Belle and Ruby stopped with him, following his pointed gaze.

“Ach, dammit,” Ruby muttered under her breath, and Emma felt an uncomfortable swooping feeling in the pit of her stomach as she saw the mayor outside the shop talking to a man she had never seen before.

“Well,” Bae said bravely, “we’ve as much right to be here as anyone, and I am certainly not letting the mayor stand between me and my Doritos.”

They continued on towards the shop, Bae leading the group with an air of grim defiance in his stance, Ruby and Emma following on behind.

“Who’s that?” Emma murmured to Ruby, nodding over to Regina’s conversation partner.

“Spencer,” Ruby hissed back. “Used to be a lawyer; partner in the same firm as Kathryn and her dad. He’s David’s adopted dad, but they don’t speak any more, not after David broke off his engagement to Kathryn. The two fathers had basically arranged the whole thing between them. Then David met Mary Margaret and Kathryn met her fiancé Jim and all their grand plans fell down around their ears. So much for Spencer getting his hands on the Midas part of the partnership.” She paused. “I don’t like this,” she muttered. “Spencer doesn’t like us, but that’s personal because of David and Mary, he’s never really given two pennies about the theatre as a whole, not like the Moral Crusaders. I wonder what they’re talking about.”

As they came closer, some strains of the conversation became audible.

“I’ve told you before, Regina, it’s a ridiculous proposal. You can’t sue someone for access to a building that you do not own or have legally mandated access to. Gold’s perfectly within his rights on this one. You’re just going to have to accept that you’ve lost this round.”

“Well what do you suggest then?” Regina snapped in response to Spencer’s calm statement. “I can’t start hanging around on the doorstep.”

“Indeed not, or your accusations of solicitation might end up slightly too close to home, and the driveway’s still the theatre’s private property. You’re trespassing as soon as you set foot past the sign.” The older man shrugged, his expression placid. “I dislike the place as much as you do, Madam Mayor, but legally, your hands and mine are tied.”

“Hmm.” Regina opened her mouth to say something else, but it was at that point that she caught sight of the three younger ones and she closed it again, smiling unpleasantly. Spencer followed her eye line and raised an eyebrow.

“Well, I don’t think that there’s anything more I have to say, Madam Mayor,” he said conversationally. “I’ll leave you to your afternoon’s entertainment.”

Regina just nodded, evidently not taking in a word that he was saying, and a slightly predatory gleam came into her eyes as Spencer moved away down the street and Bae continued towards the shop door, Emma and Ruby trying not to look like they were hiding behind him.

“Is there a problem, Madam Mayor?” Bae asked civilly as he came to a stop in front of her where she was blocking their entrance.

“Nothing more than the usual pesky annoyances,” Regina replied, her smile never faltering. “I see you’ve adopted pack travel,” she added, looking over Bae’s shoulder at Emma and Ruby. “Nevertheless, I have been meaning to speak to you, Miss Swan.”

Emma took a deep breath and tried to ignore the emphasis that Regina had put on her last name, remembering her first confrontation with the woman and the false identity that she had given.

“About what?” she asked, coming around to Bae’s side. She felt him reach out towards her hand and without thinking she grabbed it, squeezing tightly for the extra courage his ease could give her.

“A little bird told me that congratulations are in order and we will soon be hearing the pitter-patter of small illegitimate feet at the theatre.”

Emma narrowed her eyes.

“Well, the little bird had no business telling everyone my business, but thank you for your kind wishes,” she said coolly.

Regina smirked. “This is my town, Miss Swan. I make it my business to know everyone’s business. That way, I can be sure that there will be no unpleasantness.”

“Ah, Ms Mills, I think you’ll find that we’re not the ones making the situation unpleasant,” Bae said benignly. “May we pass please? Or is there a new toll on the corner shop that we weren’t made aware of?”

Regina just snorted.

“I merely wanted to give you a word of warning, Miss Swan,” she said as she moved away from the door and made to follow Spencer down the road. “Your situation may not be quite as comfortable as you had hoped. You’ve entrusted yourself to some rather… _transient_ people.” She directed this last remark to Bae, who simply gave her a simpering smile in return.

“Merry Christmas, Madam Mayor,” he said cheerily. “And a very happy new year.”

The mayor did not return the sentiment, and gave a final nasty smile before turning on her heel and leaving them to their own devices.

“Come on,” Bae said once she was out of earshot. “I’m bloody freezing out here, let’s get inside.”

Emma shivered, but the reaction had nothing to do with the cold. She was never comfortable whenever Regina was around, but there was something about this particular encounter that had left her more chilled than usual. There was something scheming in Regina’s words, more so than before. Everything that she said was a threat, or an insult to one of more members of the theatre family; that was nothing new. But this time… Emma couldn’t really describe the feeling as she wandered around the shop collecting junk food ready for the evening’s movie marathon. If she were a more psychically inclined person she would say it was the feeling of someone walking over her grave, but as it was she just put it down to general unease. Nevertheless she thought that there had been something different about her today. There had been an air of triumph as she had walked away. The last time that Emma had seen Regina, she had wondered what the mayor could possibly do to provoke them again, and now she received the distinct impression that the older woman had had an idea.

“You ok?” Ruby asked as she dumped several boxes of microwave popcorn into the basket that Emma was holding. Emma nodded warily. “You know you shouldn’t believe a word of what she says, right? You’ve been around here long enough to know that.”

Emma nodded again. “I know, I know. I just… I can’t help thinking that something’s about to happen. I know that Spencer told her that there’s nothing he can do for her, and she can’t get to us in the theatre, but what else can she do?” She looked down at her stomach unconsciously, still hidden by her coat but undeniably there, and she took a deep breath. “I’m scared, Ruby.”

Ruby took the basket from her hands and set it down on the floor of the shop before wrapping her arms around her younger friend in a fierce hug.

“We’re here for you,” she whispered in Emma’s ear. “We’re here and we will fight like the tigers we are. I’m not going to say don’t be scared, because I’m not in your position. But just know that we’re here with you and you don’t have to be scared alone.”

Emma smiled. “Thanks, Ruby.” She paused, not wanting to think about Regina and her plans for any longer than necessary, and unsure what else to say.

“Come on,” Bae said, rounding the corner with a family-sized bag of Doritos and taking up their basket. “Let’s get this stuff back to the theatre and hole up against the world to enjoy ourselves.”

“What are the odds that the power’s gone out?” Ruby mused, a wicked glint in her eye. “It would be funny if after everything that happened last time, Gold goes and blows the power himself this time.”

“You want to be careful, Ruby Lucas,” Bae said as they filled their shopping bags at the cash register. “That sounds suspiciously like you’re angling for a bet.”

“Oh no!” Ruby laughed. “I don’t bet with you, Baden Gold. Not after that incident with the goldfish in spotlights!”

Emma raised her eyebrows. “The what in the spotlights?”

“It’s a long story,” Ruby began as they left the shop, and indeed, the story was still not finished by the time they arrived back at the theatre (thankfully completely lit and heated with no sign of any interruptions to the power) and took all the food into the auditorium, where the rest of the family were already gathered, and the poor goldfish was forgotten in the rush to distribute snacks and argue over which film they would watch first.

_Home Alone_ won the vote and Emma settled back in her seat as Ruby rushed off to make the popcorn. In the warmth and conviviality of the theatre, she could almost forget that the pressures of the outside world and people like Regina existed.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for this chapter: discussion of infertility.

**Chapter Seventeen**

**In which the _Maison Rouge_ family celebrates Christmas, and Emma and Bae kiss. Kind of. **

The smell of slightly charred toast roused Emma on Christmas morning and she lifted her head up groggily from where it was buried in the cushions on Ruby’s sofa.

“Ruby?” she mumbled, but there was no reply, and Emma peered over the sofa arm to see that Ruby’s bed was empty, the covers all pushed haphazardly to the foot and the pillows on the floor. Considering that she seemed to have got out of it in a hurry, Emma was amazed that she hadn’t heard her friend wake up and leave the room. Christmas Eve must have been more tiring than she thought, considering it had mainly been spent lounging around in the auditorium singing Christmas carols with Jefferson, Alice and Grace.

The persistent smell of toast caused Emma’s stomach to growl and remind her just how hungry she was, so she pulled on her hoodie and some thicker socks and ventured out towards the kitchen. Bae was alone in there, chewing thoughtfully on a piece of toast and flipping through a battered reporter’s notebook.

“Hi,” Emma said as she entered, going over to the kettle. Gold had told her that she was welcome to raid his stash of different teas whenever she wanted, so she grabbed a peppermint teabag hoping that it would provide a calming influence for the day. Christmas had never been Emma’s favourite time of year, and although the build-up to it this year had been much more enjoyable than all her previous Christmases, she knew that today was the day she would feel her otherness the most, when gifts were actually being exchanged and families were spending time together. Still, she only had to manage till lunch time; then everyone would be together again.

“Hiya.” Bae gave her a grin. “It’s just us two for the moment. The Milliners have gone to the carol service at the church, Dad and Belle have gone for their usual Christmas morning walk in the not-snow, and Granny and Ruby are opening presents in Granny’s room. I usually leave them in peace for the morning; it can be a bit draining for them sharing their home with so many other people and they need a bit of time to themselves.”

Emma nodded, bringing her tea over to the table and accepting the slice of toast that Bae offered her. For all this was a big building with several families that called it home, it was sometimes easy to forget that for Ruby, this was the only home she had ever really known, and it must have been a little frustrating for her to grow up surrounded by people sharing her space.

“Do you always come home for Christmas?” she asked through a mouthful of toast and marmalade.

“Yes. Dad’s always been really good about not expecting me to come home regularly, but I think it would break his heart if I wasn’t here for Christmas. Even when things were really bad at home, Christmas was always the exception. He was never despondent at Christmas. We’ll have our time together later; Belle needs peace and quiet first thing on Christmas morning because her experiences are different.”

Emma nodded. “Yeah, I understand.” The previous day had been the third anniversary of Belle’s arrival at the theatre and she had spent most of it tucked away in her and Gold’s room. Emma looked down at her mug of tea. “I guess we all have our different coping mechanisms.”

“Yeah.” Bae flipped the notebook closed and shoved it in the back pocket of his jeans, giving Emma his full attention. “Merry Christmas,” he said. “Since I haven’t actually said it yet.”

“And to you.” Emma tilted her head on one side. “What’s in the notebook?”

“Oh, that.” Bae gave an embarrassed cough. “It’s just a bit of a diary. Nothing special, just what I’ve been up to on any given day so that I don’t forget anything.”

Emma smiled. “That’s a great idea.”

“And recipes. I tend to collect them. You really don’t realise just how much amazing food there is in the world until you accidentally trip over it. Not literally. Don’t eat food you’ve just tripped over, that would be unhygienic.”

They both laughed and fell into a companionable silence as they had breakfast.

“It’s weird, this just feels like any normal Sunday,” Emma said presently. “Everyone’s doing their own thing and you could almost pretend that it wasn’t Christmas at all.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.” Bae leaned back in his chair, resting his feet on the one opposite. “This is how it always is though. We’re a family, but at the same time, we’re not. We’re… unique.”

“Yeah. I like that, though. It makes me feel more at home in a way because I’m not the odd one out, everyone’s an odd one out. At the same time though, I do feel a bit like I’m sticking out.” She gave Bae a weak smile. “To be honest I’m glad that you’re here now. I don’t know what I would have done if there was no-one to talk to.”

“Oh, Belle and Dad will be back soon,” Bae said. “And none of the others would begrudge your presence at all.”

“Still, it’s nice to have someone to talk to and not have to worry about any of that,” Emma said. “So, what have you got your dad for Christmas?”

“Erm…” Bae looked sheepish. “I was running a bit on the tight side when it came to luggage allowance and time, so he’s got a bottle of duty-free whisky from the airport.”

Emma gave a snort of laughter. “Well, he’ll probably appreciate it, whether it was duty-free or not.”

“I mean, I wrapped it up so it’s not still in the duty-free bag!” Bae exclaimed. “I can hope that he thought I bought it at the off licence yesterday.”

“Well, the secret’s safe with me.” Emma’s stomach growled again and she grabbed the last slice of toast. Bae got up to make another batch without passing comment.

“Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl yet?” he asked. “Sorry, I shouldn’t pry.”

“No, it’s ok, I don’t mind talking about it. I mean, I like to hide away from the world and try not to let everyone else know that I’m pregnant, but since you and everyone else here already knows, and since word managed to get round to Regina anyway, it’s not like there’s any harm in it. We think he’s a boy but we can’t tell officially yet.” She paused. “It’s strange, at first I really didn’t like talking about it because I thought that maybe if I ignored it, it would go away. But now I don’t think I’m as scared of it anymore, so I don’t mind.”

Bae nodded. “I’m glad you feel that way. Have you thought about a name?”

“I like Henry,” Emma admitted. “It’s a really long story but there was this guy in a TV programme I saw once who was really nice, a really lovely man, and he was the kind of person I’d want as my dad, you know? And he was called Henry, and it was just a whim but I thought at the time that I would call my kid Henry if I ever had a boy. For the dad I wanted but never had. And I knew that it would encourage me to be the kind of parent I wanted to be. A good parent.” She sighed, looking around the kitchen but seeing the wider world beyond its walls. “I don’t know that I’ll be any good, but at least I’m going to try.”

Bae nodded. “You’ll be fine. Just remember that you don’t have to do any of it alone.”

“Yeah.” It was a very comforting thought, and Emma smiled. In a way she was quite glad that she was so certain she was having a boy, because she didn’t want to admit to Bae, or to anyone really, what her choice of name for a girl would be yet. She’d not thought about it at all up until recently, but she knew that if her baby turned out to be a girl, she would call her Diana, for Granny.

She was pulled from her thoughts by the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs, and a moment later Belle and Gold came into view through the open kitchen door. Their cheeks were pink from the cold and exertion of their early morning walk, eyes bright and merry, and Emma was glad to see that they were both smiling.

“Merry Christmas,” Gold said as they came into the kitchen, peeling off coats and scarves and hats, and Belle went over to make some coffee. “It’s flipping freezing out there.”

“Oh, but the town looks so beautiful in the frost,” Belle said. “And it’s always so lovely and quiet. The only person who’s ever out is Archie walking Pongo.”

“Is there any milk in here?” Gold asked, completely changing the subject as he searched high and low in the fridge. “I’ve got honey-glazed carrots, brussels sprouts, Roquefort that’s seen better days…”

“If it’s a blue cheese anyway, how do you even know it’s mouldy?” Bae asked.

“It’s wearing a little furry coat,” Gold said dryly. “There are significantly less chipolatas than there were yesterday, but there is no milk.”

Bae looked pointedly in the other direction at the mention of the missing chipolatas and whistled, trying to look innocent.

“There’s got to be milk in there somewhere," Belle said patiently.

“There’s chocolate milk. And strawberry milk. And half a bottle of vodka; maybe I’ll just put that in my coffee instead.”

Belle rolled her eyes and went over to the fridge, reaching into the back past the chipolatas and pulling out the four-pint carton of milk, handing it to Gold with a smirk.

“Can’t see for looking, you,” she muttered fondly, going up on tiptoes to kiss his red nose.

“Yes, well… That’s not my fault.”

It seemed more like Christmas now that there were more of them about, and Emma was somewhat reluctant to leave them to go and get dressed.

“Emma!” Granny poked her head out of her room as Emma was coming out of the bathroom, and through the sliver of room that was revealed, Emma could make out Ruby sitting in Granny’s bed with a mug of cocoa, wrapping paper strewn over the covers. “Before I forget, this is for you, my love. Merry Christmas.”

She held out a squashy parcel in bright red paper with a dancing snowman pattern, and Emma just looked at it blankly for a moment.

“Thank you,” she finally managed to blurt out. Granny just smiled and gave her a big hug before going back into her room. Emma meandered back to Ruby’s room, sitting down on the sofa and resting the package on her knees. She hadn’t been expecting any gifts from anyone except her secret santa that afternoon, and she was slightly wrong-footed, feeling guilty that she hadn’t got Granny anything in return. Carefully she opened the present, revealing a hand-knitted jumper in white with a picture of a penguin in a scarf and earmuffs. She wondered when Granny had had time to make it without her noticing.

For no discernible reason, Emma burst into tears, shoving the jumper off her lap and grabbing a cushion to bury her face in so that she didn’t ruin her gift with her snotty sobs. She didn’t know how long she sat there wailing, but then she became aware of a tapping on the door, and Granny’s voice through it.

“Emma, love, are you all right?”

Emma swallowed and wiped her eyes on her sleeve, looking around for a tissue to mop up her face with.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” she said, her voice wobbly.

“Can I come in?”

Well, the damage was done and Granny had seen her in worse states than this, when her morning sickness had been at its worst and she’d spent hours at a time shivering in the bathroom.

“Sure.”

Granny came in and sat down on the sofa beside her, holding out a box of tissues.

“Oh pet, what are we going to do with you?” she asked, putting an arm around her.

“I’m sorry,” Emma sniffled. “It’s just… no-one’s ever given me a gift like that before and…” She started to cry again, cursing herself for feeling so pathetic and vulnerable on Christmas Day of all days, when everyone ought to be happy and having a good time. But she was happy, so happy, so why couldn’t she stop crying?

Granny just wrapped her arms around Emma, pulling her in close, and Emma accepted the hug, closing her eyes and feeling the warmth enveloping her. She was not a tactile person, she never had been, and normally she would shrug off touches when she was upset. But she wasn’t upset today, not really. She was just so emotional.

Emma wondered if perhaps her aversion to touch had come about because she simply wasn’t used to it, that receiving hugs when she was upset had never really been a part of her growing up.

“You should get back to Ruby,” Emma sniffed eventually, pulling out of the embrace and drying her eyes. “This is your time together.”

“I know, but I wasn’t going to leave you crying,” Granny said. “Don’t worry about it, Emma. Don’t be embarrassed. Blame your hormones.” The older woman winked at her. “You can blame an awful lot on them for these next few months so make the most of it.”

Emma gave a weak laugh and Granny got up from the sofa.

“Just remember that there’s not a finite amount of love and friendship in the world,” she said. “Merry Christmas, Emma.”

Granny left the room and Emma picked up her gift again. It was nice to be reminded of that fact sometimes, when so many of her previous Christmases had been so bleak. She quickly got changed out of her pyjamas, pulling on the new jumper and admiring herself in Ruby’s mirror, resting her hand on the slight swell of her belly. The jumper was a comfortable, loose fit, but the bump was still beginning to show if she looked at herself side on.  As she had said to Bae earlier, the thought of her pregnancy showing was not quite as scary as it could have been. Maybe as long as she was within the loving and safe environment of the theatre and its extended family, she would stop hiding.

When she returned to the kitchen, Granny and Gold were packing containers from the fridge into a cool bag ready to take to Mary Margaret and David’s, whilst Belle and Bae enthused over some of his pictures from China. Belle smiled when she saw Emma’s penguin jumper.

“All right, have we got everything?” Granny asked. “Have we got everyone? We’ll meet Jeff, Alice and Grace over there. Where’s Ruby?”

“Probably still doing her make-up,” Bae said. “You know how she likes to look her best for Christmas dinner.”

“I’m here!” Ruby rushed into the room bundled up in the scarf and mittens that Emma had seen being wrapped up. “All right, let’s get this show on the road! I can’t wait to get into those chipolatas. I’m going to assume Bae hasn’t already eaten all of them.”

Gold raised an eyebrow and looked pointedly at his son.

“I haven’t eaten _all_ of them!” Bae protested. “Just… a few of them.”

Within a few minutes, the troupe were making their way down through the town in the frosty air, laden with dishes. Ruby hooked her arm through Emma’s as they walked.

“Christmas dinner’s always great,” she said. Emma didn’t doubt it; she’d sampled Mary Margaret’s excellent cooking before. “There’s always way too much food and everyone goes into a coma afterwards, and then there’s an argument about who’s going to do the washing up.”

“Sounds like a typical family Christmas,” Emma remarked.

“Yep!”

Mary Margaret answered the door for them; she was wearing huge dangly earrings with snowball pompoms on the ends that swung around wildly as she moved, and Emma was worried that one of them would catch in a door and tear her ear off.  She couldn’t stop watching them as the dark-haired woman bounced around the small apartment. The Milliners were already there, helping David to set the table. Or rather, tables, as the dining table had been extended with a trestle in order to accommodate all the guests. There wasn’t all that much room to manoeuvre, but Emma found that she liked that; it made it more homely and cosy. Soon Granny and Mary Margaret were ensconced in the kitchen with the food, and the others took their places around the table. Ruby pulled Emma down into the place beside her, and Bae took the other side, with Alice and Grace opposite. Grace looked to be in her element, grinning from ear to ear and swinging her legs under the table. Emma was glad that she still got to have a good family Christmas despite her unusual living circumstances. She’d always told herself that Christmas was for kids, and it took her a little while to realise that she was barely more than a kid herself. Still, if Ruby could be excited about it, then there was no reason why Emma couldn’t feel a little frisson of anticipation as well. Unconsciously, she touched her belly again. She’d yet to feel a kick, but she did wonder how her little one was getting on in there. This time next year, there would be an extra place at the table. Emma wondered if her baby would grow up as enthusiastic about Christmas as the other members of the theatre seemed to be, and for a moment, her happy demeanour fell. She couldn’t stay at the theatre forever. She couldn’t still be sleeping on Ruby’s sofa once the baby had actually arrived.

“Hey, what’s up?” Ruby asked, noticing her sunken expression. “Anything we can do to help?”

Emma shook her head and managed a small smile. What she really wanted was certainty, a plan for the future. She felt safe and secure where she was, but there was still that feeling of living from day to day, not really thinking beyond the end of the week. She shook herself. She’d already had one crying bout that morning and she really didn’t want to ruin Ruby and everyone else’s Christmas with her despondency.

“No, it’s nothing.” She fixed her smile more firmly in place. “It’s just that this is all new to me. I’ve never had a Christmas like this before.” Sure, she’d had Christmases in the group homes when there were always several people squashed around a table, but there had never been the convivial atmosphere that there was now. In the homes the cheer had always seemed somewhat enforced.

“All right folks, I hope you’re hungry!”

Mary Margaret came through bearing the largest turkey that Emma had ever seen and she set it down in front of David, who was sitting at the foot of the table, before moving around to take her own place at the head.

“Well, what are the rest of you having?” David quipped, picking up the carving knife and fork and beginning to cut slices as the rest of the table juggled plates; Jefferson and Granny were bringing through the last of the food and squeezing serving dishes onto the table wherever they could find room. Emma heaped roast potatoes onto her plate, avoiding the sprouts. Having had sprouts forced on her far too many times at Christmas as a child, she was determined not to eat any of the vegetable now that she was an adult. It took a while for everyone to get settled, with dishes being passed the length of the table and back again, but then a contented silence fell over the gathered company, broken only by the chinking of crockery and cutlery.

“That was amazing, Mary Margaret,” Ruby said with a satisfied sigh once the plates were more or less clean, sitting back in her chair.

“Yeah,” Emma agreed, patting her stomach. “I’m not sure how much of this is baby and how much is food.”

“I don’t think I could eat another bite,” Ruby continued. “Possibly attempting to break my roast potato record wasn’t a good idea.”

“Are you sure? Because there’s Christmas Pudding, and Yule Log for those off the booze,” Mary Margaret pointed out.

“Hmm.” Ruby was giving the matter serious thought. “I suppose I might have a small space in my toes for some Christmas pudding.”

Mary Margaret grinned. “I’ll go and serve.”

“Don’t set the place alight!” David called after her.

“Don’t worry, I’ll use the safety matches!”

“Maybe just use less brandy?” David pleaded. “I swear she used an entire bottle last year, the place nearly went up in flames.”

“Yes, let’s not have any fires over Christmas,” Gold agreed.

“It wouldn’t be my Christmas pudding without a healthy dose of brandy!” Mary Margaret yelled from the kitchen.

“There’s a healthy dose, and then there’s enough to put you in a coma!”

Emma snorted and turned to Ruby. “Is it always…”

“Like this?” the brunette finished for her. “Yes, it is. We’ve never had a fire yet though, so you can take heart from that.”

After the meal was finished, a game of charades somehow began without anyone really instigating it, with Jefferson and David becoming really quite competitive whilst the rest of the party fell about laughing. Eventually though, Mary Margaret got up to begin clearing away, and when she did not reappear, Emma decided to help out if she could; the raucous atmosphere was getting to be a bit too much to handle.

Mary Margaret was standing by the sink when Emma came into the kitchen with a stack of bowls, leaning heavily on the metal surround, her shoulders shaking as if she was crying.

“Mary?” she began tentatively, putting the bowls down and taking a step towards the older woman. “Are you ok?”

Mary Margaret whirled around, hastily wiping her eyes on her apron.

“Oh, Emma, I didn’t notice you come in, I’m sorry.”

“Hey, it’s ok, I spent most of this morning bawling my eyes out too. Is everything all right?”

“I…” She shook her head. “Oh honey, it’s not something that I want to burden you with. Not when you’re so young and you’ve got so much else on your plate.” She glanced down at Emma’s belly. “It’s just…”

She sagged against the sink, looking down despondently at her hands hanging limply in her lap.

“I love doing this,” she said. “I love having everyone here for Christmas dinner. But sometimes it’s just so hard… And now you’re here and it’s even harder and oh my God, don’t think that I don’t want you here, not for a minute, but it just makes it harder for me to forget and…”

“Mary, what’s up?” Emma asked unsurely, terrified that she’d somehow done something to upset or offend her host without knowing. “I’m really sorry…”

“Oh Emma, there’s no need to be. You haven’t done anything.” Mary Margaret took a deep breath. “I can’t have children.”

“Oh.” Emma’s hand went to her abdomen unconsciously.

Mary Margaret gave a weak smile. “David and I are in the process of adopting,” she said. “It’s just taking a really long time, and every year I think that this will be the year I’ll see my own child sitting at that table. I’m normally ok, I just have faith that it will all work out, but Christmas is the hardest time.”

“Listen,” Emma began, “I know you offered me your spare room but if it would make you feel bad then…”

Mary Margaret shook her head. “You’re part of the family, Emma. You may not be mine and David’s child, but you’re pretty much a niece to us, like Ruby is. Your impending arrival is part of the family too. So if you ever need us, we’re here.” She shrugged. “But I’m only human and Christmas is difficult. Everyone has their own difficulties with the festive season.”

Emma nodded; she knew that feeling and knew that others in the theatre knew it too. 

The two women worked in a companionable silence for a while as they stacked the dishwasher and cleaned up in the kitchen, and within a few minutes, Mary Margaret was smiling and laughing again. 

“Here you are!” Ruby poked her head around the kitchen door. “We’ve been looking all over for you! Well, not exactly all over, the apartment isn’t that big. We were going to head back to the theatre now, Mary,” she said. “Jefferson and David have started arguing about whether ‘snowflake’ is one word or two and I fear that there might be cutlery at dawn soon.”

Mary Margaret laughed. “Oh dear, I’d better go and rescue him.”

They all left the kitchen to find that most of the rest of the _Maison_ family were putting their coats and scarfs on, but Jefferson and David were still sitting at the table. David had retrieved a dictionary from somewhere and the argument on the composition of ‘snowflake’ was reaching rather epic proportions. Emma went over to Bae, who was holding out her and Ruby’s coats for them whilst Mary went around saying goodbye.

“This is a new one on me,” Bae admitted, watching David and Jefferson with mesmerised fascination. “Who knew that Jeff had such a pedantic streak?”

Ruby cackled. “Jefferson thinks that spelling is incredibly important,” she said. “I’ve known him correct road signs before now.”

She skipped over to talk to Mary Margaret, but turned back and gave Emma a sly wink over her shoulder. Emma furrowed her brow; Ruby rolled her eyes and surreptitiously pointed up at the ceiling.

Glancing up, Emma saw that she and Bae were standing directly under the mistletoe hanging from the light fixture.

“Oh,” Bae said. When Emma looked back at him, he’d gone rather pink and was shuffling from foot to foot. “We, erm, we don’t have to, you know.”

Emma nodded. “I know.”

All the same, she went up on her toes and pecked a kiss to Bae’s cheek, unable to stop a giggle from escaping as she came back down. Bae blinked, a little bit shellshocked, and then smiled, holding out his hand as they moved away from the mistletoe towards the door.

They were still holding hands when they arrived back at the theatre.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The guy off the TV that Emma wants to name Henry after is Dr Henry Head from Casualty 1907, as played by Anton Lesser.


	18. Chapter 18

_Don’t panic - no-one dies!_

**Chapter Eighteen**

**While preparing for New Year’s Eve, tragedy strikes the theatre.**

Once Christmas Day was over, the theatre was once more a hive of activity and bustle. Whilst the few days over Christmas itself were reserved for small family celebrations, New Year’s was an entirely different matter. On New Year’s Eve, _Maison Rouge_ would throw its doors open for all of the theatre’s company, performers and technical crew alike, both those who lived in the theatre itself and those who dwelled beyond its walls. A few choice friends, like Kathryn Midas and her fiancé, Graham the tame policeman and Archie were also invited, and Emma didn’t think that she had ever seen the theatre as vibrant and full of life as it was in those few days between Christmas and New Year. The front doors to the box office were once more unlocked, and people were constantly popping in and out. It was good to see everything so busy again; it made Emma feel less like the odd one out and more like she was part of the family as she and Belle frantically searched for space for all the food in the vast fridge. Needless to say, Gold could never find the milk and had taken to having his coffee black in protest, but since it moved every time something new was brought in and crammed into the fridge, Emma supposed that he could be forgiven for that.

It was the thirtieth of December, late in the evening, and Emma was sitting in the auditorium with a walkie-talkie on her lap and a mug of cocoa in her hands, attempting to make inroads into the vast mountain of whipped cream that Granny had topped it with but only succeeding it getting it all over her nose. The huge mug in the shape of a polar bear had been her Secret Santa gift from Grace, and Emma smiled at the memory of the gift exchange under the Christmas tree in the bar as she tried to reach the end of her nose with her tongue. Presently the walkie-talkie on her lap burst into life.

_“Emma?”_ Gold said. _“We’re testing now.”_

“All right,” she replied, leaning back further in her seat and watching the back of the stage. Gold and David were up in the AV room setting up the projector ready for the party the next evening, where it would show the midnight countdown from Big Ben, and various other entertainment. The projector had been on the blink since the twenty-third - Granny thought that it had given up the ghost after being forced to project so many Christmas films all night - and, not wanting to fuse the theatre, Gold and David were being extra careful with it.

Emma picked up the walkie-talkie again. “I’m not seeing anything, guys.”

_“Yeah.”_ Gold sounded frustrated. _“Something’s not right with the connection to the TV.”_

“Are you sure that the TV’s switched on?” Emma suggested. Although she could not see him, she could practically hear Gold rolling his eyes as he replied.

_“No, we never thought to check. Yes, the TV’s on. David keeps channel-hopping and it’s driving me round the twist.”_

Emma gave a snort of laughter and took a big gulp of cocoa, ignoring the sticky mess of cream now covering her face. At that moment, the back of the stage burst into life, and the image of two people engaging in extremely passionate and Christmas-themed intercourse was plastered over the wall in terrifyingly large close-up.

“Erm, guys,” Emma said into the walkie-talkie, “you might want to change channel before Grace walks in. What even is this channel? X-Rated X-Mas?”

The image quickly changed to a nature documentary about arctic foxes.

_“I believe that was XXX-Mas.”_ Gold’s voice was amused. _“Not sure how we ended up with that one, to be honest. Nor why David stopped on it.”_

There was a scrape of feedback and then David’s voice.

_“It was entirely unintentional! That just happened to be the channel that was on when the projector started working!”_

Emma laughed. “I’ll believe you where thousands wouldn’t, David,” she said sagely. “At least we know that it’s working now.”

_“Indubitably.”_

The projector was switched off and Emma was left staring at the back of the stage. She curled her legs up under her in the faded red velvet seat, and smiled. Sitting here, warm and cosy, the dim house lights providing just the right level of light to make her drowsy, well, all she needed was blanket and she’d be quite happy to curl up in a little cocoon until January, safe and snug. A couple of minutes later, she heard Gold’s uneven step coming down the stairs behind her, and he slipped into the next seat along, stretching out his legs and hooking his cane over the seat in front of him. Emma watched him for a moment, before realising that she had cream all over her face and had nothing to wipe it off with and shifting awkwardly in her seat. Gold chuckled and held out his handkerchief, and Emma quickly cleaned up.

“Gold,” she began, wanting to broach a potentially problematic subject with him but not entirely sure how to bring it up.

“Hm?”

She decided that bluntness was probably the way forward. “Do you know when Bae’s planning to leave again?”

Gold quirked an eyebrow. “That makes it sound like you can’t wait to be rid of him,”

“No!” Emma exclaimed. “No, not at all!”

“I’m teasing, Emma,” Gold replied with a laugh. “I know what you mean.” He sighed. “I honestly don’t know. Sometimes he sticks around for a month or so, finds a job to make some petty cash for his next trip if he’s running low. Sometimes he takes off in the first week of the new year.” He paused. “Why did that cross your mind?”

Emma stared at the stage, wondering how to talk about Bae and her feelings for him with his father. She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the mistletoe on Christmas Day, and about what would have happened if she’d kissed him on the lips like she had, for an impulsive moment, wanted to do, and their journey back to the theatre hand in hand. It hadn’t really changed their day to day relationship at all; Bae was just as warm and affectionate with her as he had always been, and as he was with everyone in the theatre. Nothing seemed any different, and Emma couldn’t yet tell if she wanted it to be different or not. She didn’t know how much time she would have left in which to make up her mind before it was made up for her by Bae’s disappearance out of her life again.

“I just… I suppose I don’t want to get too attached,” she said eventually.

“I see.”

There was silence for a long time, and Emma glanced over at Gold. She wasn’t quite sure what she had been expecting his reaction to be, but she was pretty sure that a fond smile wasn’t it.

“You’re not mad?” she asked.

“Well, I’m not entirely sure I’m the right person to be having this conversation with, and I’m sure that we’re both going to forget that it ever happened afterwards because I’m the last person to ask for relationship advice, especially when it comes to Bae. But all I can assure you is that even if Bae is not always here, he always cares deeply about those close to him, and I know from the time we’ve spent together as father and son this holiday that you definitely count among that number. And no matter what, he always comes home in the end.”

Emma nodded. “Thanks. I think.” It wasn’t exactly much of a comfort, but at least she knew that there wasn’t a danger of never seeing him again if, over time, her feelings decided to take a deeper turn. She wasn’t sure what they were just yet; if it was just a silly little crush that had built up over the last week or so of his presence, or if it had any other potential. Emma was guarded with her feelings; after her last disastrous relationship she knew that she would never allow herself to trust so blindly or be hurt so badly ever again, and she knew that it was going to take time before the trust she needed was built up. All the same, she felt safe around Neal. She felt respected in herself.

“Can you… not tell him?” she added. Gold gave a soft huff of laughter.

“I already said that we could forget the conversation happened,” he said. “Don’t worry, your thoughts will not leave the auditorium.”

Emma looked around the cavernous room, empty apart from her and Gold. “You know, ordinarily that really wouldn’t inspire much confidence,” she pointed out.

“Hey, Emma!”

Almost as if Philip and Mulan had cued it from backstage, the doors from the dress circle out into the house burst open and Ruby raced down the steps, balancing the laptop on one arm.

“What’s going on?” Gold groused as Ruby pushed past him, neatly stepping over his legs to flop down into the seat on Emma’s other side, thrusting the laptop at her excitedly.

“Look!” she said, jabbing her finger at the screen. It was showing the theatre’s Facebook page, which Emma had set up on Christmas Eve. Despite the comparatively short space of time that it had been available, some of the local people were already liking and befriending it, and there were a couple of interested parties from further afield who had found the page through Kathryn.

“That’s great,” Emma said. It was going to take a long time for her to get the website itself up and running, but as long as they had an Internet presence on social media, then they could still boost the theatre’s takings and try to reach a wider audience that way.

“I know! It feels like we’re really spreading our wings, you know.” Ruby closed the laptop and sighed happily. “It’s going to be a good year. I can feel it.”

“We have to get through this year first,” Gold pointed out, and Ruby huffed.

“There is only one day of this year left. It’s not too soon to start looking ahead.”

Gold gave a chuckle. “I suppose you’re right, my little incurable optimist. Just don’t start counting your chicks before they’ve hatched.” He got up, unhooking his cane from the seat in front of him and stretching out his limbs. “I shall leave you two young things in peace. Some of us need our beauty sleep if we’re going to be staying up till dawn tomorrow.”

They said goodnight and Gold left them in the darkened auditorium.

“We should probably get to bed too,” Ruby said. “He’s right. We never really intend to stay up till dawn, but somehow it just keeps happening. It’s all Gold’s fault though. If he wasn’t Scottish and hadn’t been brought up on Hogmanay then I swear we’d all go to bed sooner.”

Emma just raised an eyebrow at this declaration and Ruby’s shoulders sagged.

“Yeah, you’re right, we’d still be partying even without him.”

They left the auditorium, Ruby locking up and switching off lights as they went.

“I’m so excited about tomorrow,” she said once they were back in her room, the fairy lights around the bed switched on and giving the place an almost ethereal feel, and Emma could detect a note of giddiness in her voice; she wondered if Ruby would get to sleep at all.

“Could this be something to do with you getting to see Archie again?” she asked.

Ruby grinned.

“Well, you know, it’s been a while since I last had a proper date with him what with Christmas and everything, we’ve all been so busy with family.”

Emma just smiled. “Don’t think I didn’t see you steal a kiss when he came by to drop off the sausage rolls.”

Ruby shrugged. “I like to think of myself as a carpe diem kind of girl. I seize the day.”

“It looked more like you wanted to seize him by the tie.”

“Emma Swan!” Ruby gave an exclamation of faux-shock. “I am scandalised that you would even suggest such a thing!” She paused. “It’s just… this is the first relationship I’ve ever had where I think it could go the distance, you know? Most of the other people I’ve dated have been kind of intimidated by the whole theatre and Granny thing, but Archie’s different. He’s a gentleman, he’s not a kid, like everyone else was. I mean, I’m only twenty-one so I’m pretty much still a kid myself. We’re taking it slowly. I think he’s kind of worried about the age difference, but hey, there’s twenty-two years between Belle and Gold and they’re going strong.”

“You really like him, don’t you?”

Ruby nodded, her smile reaching Cheshire Cat proportions.

“I really, really do. But what about you and Bae?”

Emma rolled her eyes.

“What about me and Bae?”

“Well, you seem to be getting on very well.”

Emma thought about her conversation with Gold on this very subject before Ruby’s arrival interrupted them.

“We do get on well,” she said. “But I don’t know if it’s anything special. I guess we’ll just have to see where it goes.”

Ruby smiled and turned the fairy lights out, plunging them into darkness.

“Good night, Emma.”

“Good night, Ruby.”

X

Not for the first time that week, Emma found herself unable to sleep despite her tiredness once she was actually in bed. Her baby, it seemed, even though she had not yet felt him kick, was nocturnal. She sighed and turned over for what must have been the hundredth time, listening to the sounds of the theatre. It was an old building, and Emma had long since become used to its creaks and groans. It was the theatre’s way of telling her that all was well and everything was all right, and that as long as the venerable establishment held, she would be safe within its sturdy brick walls, where the trials of the outside world could not touch her.

She heard a low crackle come from below them, and smiled at the building’s late night greeting to her, as if it knew she was still awake and in need of company. Presently the sound came again, but this time it did not stop, simply building in strength.

Emma sat bolt upright and immediately regretted it as she felt a wave of dizziness rush through her head.

“Ruby!” she hissed. “Something’s wrong!”

Ruby emerged from her cocoon of blankets a little and opened one eye, looking at her roommate sleepily.

“Say what?” she asked, the last word becoming a yawn.

“Can you hear that?” Emma asked, pointing to the floor beneath them and the source of the noise. “It sounds like…”

She was cut off by the ear-splitting screech of an alarm.

“...fire,” Ruby finished weakly, the fear in her eyes almost tangible. “Jesus Christ, the bar’s on fire.”

She stayed shellshocked for a moment, and Emma thought that she was going to have to slap some sense into her friend, but then she got out of bed and began pulling on boots and a warm hoodie and coat over her pyjamas. Emma did the same just as the bedroom door burst open to reveal Granny similarly attired.

“Come on girls, this isn’t a drill,” she said grimly.

Emma needed no further encouragement and left the room, making her way down the corridor to Belle and Gold’s bedroom; their big bay window doubled as the fire escape. Alice and Grace followed them in, and Bae and Jefferson skidded into the room as Gold flung the windows open.

“It’s bad,” Bae said. “We didn’t even open the door, we could already feel the heat.”

Alice and Grace had just stepped out and begun the journey down the flimsy staircase when a thunderous smash sounded below them, and Emma realised with a sickening jolt that the windows in the bar had blown out with the force of exploding alcohol bottles. Ruby ducked out of the window, dragging Emma and Belle with her, and Emma just heard Granny’s voice as she began to descend.

“Lord deliver us,” the older woman muttered.

It was freezing outside, and the chill wind buffeting them made Emma gasp with shock, but she continued down the stairs, weaving down the side of the building. Above her, Gold swore violently and she glanced up to see that he had slipped on the icy metal steps, bad ankle giving out beneath him.

“It’s ok Dad, I’ve got you.” Bae took his father’s arm around his shoulders and pulled him up, Jefferson bringing up the rear of the little group escaping the theatre. Once down on the ground, out in the driveway, Emma could see the extent of the blaze through the smashed windows. She felt sick. What could have caused something so devastating? The building was old and not the most fireproof of places, which was why they always took such care with the electrics to prevent accidents.

“The alarm is patched directly to the fire service, they’ll be on their way,” Granny said once they all reconvened and were assured that everyone had escaped. “With any luck it’ll stay out of the auditorium.”

Emma couldn’t say she had all that much confidence as she looked at the flames, the brightness hurting her eyes. The smoke was spreading; it looked like the box office had caught as well.

“We’re all safe,” Alice said, holding Grace close to try and stop her seeing the extent of the damage that was happening to her home. “That’s what matters.”

The collective theatre family jumped in shock as a loud banging erupted from the heavy main doors of the theatre.

“Holy crap,” Bae said faintly. “There’s someone still inside.”

“We’re all out here!” Granny exclaimed. “Who the hell’s in there?”

“Have we got a ghost?” Grace asked, muffled by Alice’s jacket.

“Help!” a voice spluttered from inside. “Help!”

Granny’s face went from shocked to cool understanding in the space of a split second.

“No, Grace, not a ghost. A burglar and arsonist, but not a ghost, unless Sidney Glass drank himself to death under the bar counter and none of us noticed.”

“We’ve got to get him out, Granny,” Jefferson said, rushing over to the doors with Bae in pursuit.

“Of course we’ve got to get him out, but the door’s locked from the inside and the key’s inside, probably melted!”

The box office was definitely aflame now, and Sidney’s alternative way out - and probably the way he got in, considering the simplicity of the ordinary yale lock compared with the heavy main door - was blocked off. It would not be long before the entire foyer was filled with smoke.

“Hard way it is then,” Bae muttered before yelling through the door. “Ok, we’re gonna try and break the door in, stand back.”

Bae and Jefferson hefted their weight against the huge doors, which gave about a centimetre but no more. The doors were old and heavy, but with repeated effort, they began to move and finally gave way; Bae grabbed Jefferson as he stumbled into the theatre, giving a howl of pain and clutching his shoulder. Sidney rushed out, coughing violently, but no-one paid him any mind, Alice and Grace running over to help Jefferson and Bae away from the building as the whining sirens of the fire brigade made their way up the drive. Emma just glowered at the man; if Jefferson had been hurt rescuing him from a fire that he had caused, then… A small, vicious part of her wished that Sidney had perished in the flames. She glanced across to Granny and Gold. Gold was looking up at the burning bar, the flames coming through the windows and licking the building’s facade. His expression was sorrowful and Emma could see that tears were streaming down his face as he watched his home and everything he owned burn in front of him. Belle was sitting beside him, her face buried in his shoulder, unable to bring herself to look at the building, and the little woman was shaking uncontrollably in a mixture of cold, shock and fear.

Granny’s face was a mask of seething fury; Emma had never known her look so angry before and it was an awe-inspiring sight. There was something cold in her rage, something crystallised and dangerous, and Emma knew that for all Granny usually let the constant threats against herself and the theatre go, shaking them off as if they were nothing, she felt the same turbulent emotions that they did, and just as strongly.

The fire trucks arrived and they got to work; one of the firefighters went to ask what had happened and case the situation with Granny and Gold, and Bae was on the phone asking for an ambulance. All around her, things were happening, and yet Emma was rooted, unable to move at all, just staring at the blazing building in front of her. She could hear more sirens, and then Graham’s voice was talking, and Ruby was crying, and she felt detached, as if she was watching it all through a screen. Despite the smell of smoke in the air and the ash drifting around like snow, she was having trouble believing that it was all happening around her. It was such a simple concept and yet it seemed utterly incomprehensible to her. The theatre was burning. The place that had withstood so much was now on fire, unable to withstand any more.

Emma sat down heavily on the freezing ground, not even feeling the cold any more.

“Emma?” Ruby’s voice was quavering and thick with tears.

“I’m ok,” Emma finally managed to say, although quite where her voice had come from, she didn’t know. “I’m ok. I just needed to sit down.” It was as if her legs couldn’t support the weight of reality anymore. She hugged her knees in close, watching the bustle around her and hoping that she could blend into the background and out of the confusion. It was the same as the night of Astrid’s attack, the same feeling of panic rendering her immobile, but this time, everyone was in the same position. All any of them could do was let the emergency services do their job.

She saw Granny go over to Sidney, the older woman’s furious expression still in place.

“Are you happy now?” she asked the journalist. “Are you congratulating yourself on finally destroying us? This theatre is more than a business. This theatre is a home. We live here. Nine of us. You’ve just left nine people homeless, including a ten-year-old child, a pregnant woman, a septuagenarian, an anxiety sufferer and a man with mobility problems and chronic pain. You really hated what we stand for so much that you would overlook us mere humans in your quest for the greater good? Did you not think about us when you set out on this quest? Or was Madam Mayor hoping we would perish in the blaze as well and you wouldn’t have to worry?”

It was a chilling speech, and it made Emma shiver. She was grateful for Bae and Ruby’s presence beside her.

“I didn’t intend anyone to get hurt,” Sidney coughed.

Emma felt her hands curl into fists. He didn’t intend anyone to get hurt? He’d literally started a fire underneath them!

“Tell that to Jefferson’s broken shoulder and Gold’s seized up ankle,” Granny snapped. “But you have hurt us. All of us. We are in pain. We are grieving for our home and our safety. You have hurt us more terribly than you can ever know, so I’ll ask again, are you happy now?”

Sidney gave another hacking cough. “It was an accident! I swear!”

“Considering the damage you have already tried to wreak on this place in print, Mr Glass, I’m sure you’ll forgive me waiting until the fire department give their verdict before I believe you.”

Emma just looked at the burning theatre, clouds of steam from the firefighters’ hoses rising along with the thick smoke that was filling the once-clear sky.

Accident or intent aside, the theatre was burning, and somehow, she knew, Regina was responsible.

  
  
  



	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter Nineteen**

**The _Maison Rouge_ family come to terms with what has happened and realise that all hope is not lost.**

It took the fire department just over two hours to put the blaze out, and it was clear that the bar, box office, and the apartment above were beyond saving. The police had finished taking statements and Sidney had been arrested on suspicion of burglary since they could not yet prove arson, before being taken to hospital for treatment for smoke inhalation. On learning that Emma was pregnant, the paramedics had wanted to take her in as well as a precaution, but Emma, dazed and confused and wondering what on earth was going to happen, had refused, saying that she would call Cara in the morning. Staring up at the smoking wreck as the firefighters rolled up their hoses and began assessing the safety of the ruin, Emma couldn’t find words to express her emotions. Just as she had found a home and a place to stay, it had been ripped away from her, all her dreams and hopes for the future up in literal smoke. Beside her, Ruby was shaking, wrapped up in a shock blanket and barely blinking. The Milliners had gone to the hospital; Jefferson had a suspected broken shoulder from getting Sidney out.

“Hey.”

Emma glanced over at Bae, who had wandered over from where he’d been sitting with Belle and Gold. She couldn’t reply, just shaking her head and staring back at the blown out skylight that had been Ruby’s bedroom window. A tattered shred of burned poster was fluttering in the cold night wind, and Emma felt tears begin to form in her eyes. She wiped them away before turning back to Bae.

“We can rebuild,” he said. “We can always rebuild. We’re all safe, that’s what matters. Come on, staring up at it won’t do any good.”

“Where else can we go, Bae?” Ruby exclaimed. “The theatre’s gone! It’s gone! We have nowhere else! We’re homeless!”

“I know,” Bae said. “But staring at it isn’t going to help. Let’s get out of here, clear our heads a bit.”

Ruby opened her mouth as if she was going to protest, but then her shoulders slumped and she nodded forlornly.

“Well, it’s not like I’m ever going to forget the sight of my home going up in flames,” she muttered.

“Granny!” Bae called over to where she was talking to the chief firefighter. “I’m going to take Ruby and Emma out of here, out of the circus. Just up the coast a bit. I’ve got my phone.”

Ruby snorted. “Well, that’s about the only thing that was saved,” she said, and she shuffled towards the yellow beetle, the police and firefighters letting her pass.

“That’s the advantage of keeping half my possessions in my pockets,” Bae said. “Come on girls. You’ll feel better with some fresh air without the smell of smoke in the wind.”

“Yes, love.” Granny came over and wrapped her arms around her granddaughter, stroking her hair as Ruby crumpled against her. “You need to get of here. It’ll do you no good to stay here in this nightmare with all the reminders. Go away and clear your head.”

“But I can’t leave it,” Ruby said, her voice small and frightened. “It’s all we’ve got.”

“No,” Granny said firmly. “No, we have more than that. We have each other. I know that doesn’t seem like much of a comfort now, with no roof over our heads, but you’ll see. We’ll pull through this. We’re stronger than you could ever know, my love. I promise we will survive this.”

There was a long pause, then Ruby gave a minute nod against Granny’s shoulder.

Emma got into the back of the beetle as Bae got into the driver’s seat. Ruby was in the passenger side, staring out of the window, not speaking, her face pale and drawn. None of them said anything during the journey, just watching the smoking theatre getting further and further away until it couldn’t be seen. Out of sight and out of mind, Emma finally forced herself to look forward through the windscreen, to look to the future rather than the past. They could rebuild. They could bounce back just as they had done every time that they had been threatened.

Emma sighed and leaned back against the seat, looking at the roof of the car. Who was she kidding? So, Regina might not have got away with her crime this time – for she was certain that it was Regina behind Sidney’s strings – but the damage was already done. The theatre would not need to worry about them again, but what difference did that make if there was no theatre in the first place?

“Stop the car,” Ruby said suddenly, and Bae pulled over into a layby beside the sea front.

“You ok, Ruby?” he asked. She shook her head.

“I can’t deal with this. I need to run. I can’t just sit here thinking about it, it’s driving me insane. Just… I’ll be back in a while, I just can’t… I’ve got to run.”

She flung herself out of the door and took off at a sprint down the path that ran along beside the water’s edge.

“Is she going to be ok?” Emma asked Bae, alarmed by how quickly Ruby had run away from them.

Bae nodded; they could see Ruby’s outline, still running down the long path away from, illuminated by the street lamps.

“She’ll be all right,” he said. After a moment, he got out of the driver’s seat and got into the back with Emma.

“Ruby’s one of the strongest people I’ve ever met,” he continued. “She’s coped with so much during her life and always puts a brave face on it. But she can only bear so much, and her usual coping mechanisms aren’t available to her right now.”

Emma remembered the night of Belle’s nightmare, and Ruby’s sadness then. She wondered if her friend would have run then if she hadn’t found a practical occupation to take her mind off the harrowing circumstances. Now, there was nothing she could do except wait, and that was what was eating her up.

“Has she done this before?” Emma asked. Bae nodded.

“When we thought that we were going to have to move out of the theatre, before Dad bought it. She comes back, Emma. She’s not going to throw herself over the cliffs, and she probably won’t go out of our sight. She just needs time to get away from her own thoughts.”

Ruby was still running; the small speck of red and black in the distance.

Emma sighed; she wished that she could get away from her own thoughts, but at that moment, she felt horribly sick, and not wanting to move, her brain was taking over.

“I suppose this is it then,” she said bitterly, looking around at the beetle’s interior. “Living in the back seat of a car.”

“Don’t think like that,” Bae said firmly. “The theatre may have gone, but the family extends beyond its walls. David and Mary Margaret, Leroy and his brothers, Astrid and Tina, Philip, Mulan, Marina and her dad, Ashley and Sean. There are so many people who will rally round and help us out. You’ll see. I promise you that we are not going to be homeless.”

They continued to sit in silence for a little while; Emma wasn’t quite sure how long they stayed there, just enjoying each other’s company and trying not to think about what came next. She rested her head on Bae’s shoulder; although she was quite sure that she would not be able to get back to sleep again in a hurry, now that the adrenaline was dissipating, her body felt tired and heavy, as if she had just run as far as Ruby had despite not having moved.

“We take care of each other,” Bae said presently. “It’ll be all right.”

Emma wished that she could believe him.

Presently, the spot in the distance that was Ruby stopped, bending double and catching her breath, and at length she turned around and began to walk back along the path towards them.

“Told you,” Bae said. “We’ll all be all right in the end.”

Ruby returned to them at last; although her face was still melancholy, she had more colour in her cheeks and no longer looked like she was in shock.

“Ok,” she said. “Let’s go back. I don’t think I’m on the verge of having a nervous breakdown anymore. There’s stuff to sort out before we can start processing what’s happened. I mean, a blaze that big, someone in the town’s going to have seen it, and someone’s going to have to deal with all the nosy neighbours wondering what’s happened.”

As expected, a small crowd had gathered around the theatre when they returned, and Emma hung back as Bae and Ruby got out of the car and made their way over to the newcomers.

“Come on, Emma,” a voice called over to her. It was Astrid from the box office, and Emma duly answered her summons.

“Gold and Belle have gone to David and Mary Margaret’s,” Granny was saying as they approached the huddle.

“We can take the Milliners,” Marina Tempest said. “Our lodger’s just moved out so we’ve got a spare room and a campbed.”

“Tina and I have a couch,” Astrid said. “I know it’s not much, but…”

“Astrid, we’re grateful for anything that you can offer us,” Granny said.

It took a little while, getting places to stay divvied up between all the theatre’s residents, and Emma was glad to let everyone else handle the arrangements. She was used to going wherever she was taken; she hadn’t exactly had much of a say in her homes over the years.

“I’ll stay with Emma,” Ruby said firmly, and Emma looked at her in surprise. She would have thought that Ruby would have wanted to stay with Granny of all people.

“That’s fine, you can come to us,” Astrid said. “Tina’s getting everything ready with clean sheets, and we’re about the same size so you can borrow my clothes for a few days.”

Ruby looked at Emma. “You ok with that?” she asked. Emma just nodded, a little dumbstruck, and as the others continued to wrangle sleeping arrangements, Astrid led them away from the theatre and down the narrow streets to the little two-bed apartment she shared with Tina, who opened the door to them with the sound of the kettle boiling.

“You two can take my bed as long as you don’t mind bunking up,” Astrid said. “I’ve been told that apparently I snore so I’ll take the couch.”

Ruby opened her mouth to protest but Astrid raised an eyebrow.

“The very least you need after everything that’s happened is a proper bed,” the older woman said sternly. “Come on in and have some tea, and take a hot shower; you’re freezing.”

After a shower and a hot drink, her hair and skin no longer smelling of burning wood, bundled up in Astrid’s spare t-shirt and sweatpants and Tina’s dressing gown, it was a lot easier for Emma to feel like perhaps the world hadn’t ended and there was some hope after all. She could hear Tina on the phone in the other room as she got into bed beside Ruby; Astrid was gathering up the mugs.

“Can I get you anything?” Astrid asked. “Feel free to raid the fridge if you want, help yourselves.”

Emma shook her head.

“I’m ok, thanks.”

Astrid gave a sad smile. “Well, I’ll let you get some sleep, you’ll need it after tonight.”

Ruby snorted. “Some chance of that.”

“It’s going to be hard,” Astrid said plainly, and the honesty was refreshing. It was all very well, Bae and Granny trying to keep their spirits up, but what Emma really wanted was some certainty. “But we’re here to support you all, and you’re in all of our prayers.”

Tina popped her head around the door.

“Ok, everyone’s accounted for. Bob’s gone to get Alice and Grace from the hospital; they’re keeping Jeff in to take more scans on his shoulder to see if there’s any nerve damage. They say it’s a clean break and should heal well. Belle and Gold are at the Nolans’; Bae’s on Leroy’s couch; Granny’s at Kathryn and Jim’s. I guess all that we can do now is reconvene in the morning. Well.” She glanced at her watch. “Later on in the morning.”

“Try to get some sleep,” Astrid added.

She left the room, turning the light out on the way, and Ruby let out a long sigh. Through the darkness, Emma could see that her eyes were still open, staring up at the ceiling.

“Ruby?” she whispered in the darkness.

“Yes?”

“Thanks for staying with me.”

“That’s ok. I know how much I wouldn’t want to be alone. Granny’s tough as old boots, she’ll survive.”

“I know. That’s not what I meant. It just means a lot, you know.”

Ruby shifted over onto her side, and Emma felt her take her hand and squeeze.

“You’re like the little sister I never had,” she said. “I’m used to being the little sister, with Bae,” she added. “It’s nice to be able to take care of someone else. And, to be honest, thinking about you and keeping you company stops me thinking about… other things.”

Emma smiled.

“Thanks.”

She must have dropped off at some point before the sun crept over the horizon as Ruby was already awake when Emma opened her eyes, but she showed no signs of wanting to get out of bed.

“Hey,” she mumbled, before burying her face in the pillow. “Do you think that if we just stay in here all day then it will all go away?”

Emma shook her head. “I don’t think it really works like that, sorry.”

Ruby just gave a pillow-muffled groan, and there was a knock at the door before Astrid popped her head around.

“I thought I heard you were awake,” she said. “I’ve made porridge, and Granny’s here.”

Ruby’s head shot up out of the pillow. “Granny’s here?”

Astrid nodded, and Ruby was out of bed in a shot, pushing past the other woman into the living room. Astrid smiled fondly over her shoulder, and then turned back to Emma.

“Breakfast in bed?” she asked.

Emma shook her head. It would be all too easy to hide away in Astrid and Tina’s flat, like Ruby had wanted to, but there was a world out there that needed to be faced up to, and a future that couldn’t be denied. She got up and shuffled through into the kitchen. Granny was sitting at the table with a bowl of porridge.

“They’ve made the theatre safe again and the arson investigators have finished,” she said. “There are some parts that are too unstable to go in – the Milliner’s garret, my room and the kitchen are off limits as apparently they don’t have floors anymore, but the rest of the place is structurally sound. Gold and I are going to go around there in a while to assess the damage and get onto the insurers. You can come along too.” She gave a long sigh. “I have to say this to you now, girls. The insurance will cover the loss of income whilst the theatre’s out of action, but we don’t know how much they’ll pay out for the rebuilding. We might be in limbo for a little while.”

Ruby nodded. “Ok. Let’s just go and see what can be salvaged.” She seemed brighter now that it was daylight and there was some degree of hope on the horizon.

Once breakfast was finished and Astrid and Tina had loaned Emma and Ruby some clothes that weren’t pyjamas, the five of them left the apartment and made the short journey through the town towards the theatre. At least it had stopped smoking, which made it look a little better, but in the stark light of the cold December day, it was clear to see the extent of the terrible damage.

Gold was already there, looking tired and older than his years; unshaven and wearing ill-fitting jeans that obviously belonged to David. He gave a smile when he saw them approaching and waved limply, leaning heavily on a borrowed walking stick.

“Well, there is some good news,” he said, and Emma’s heart leapt to her mouth.

“Yes?” she hedged.

“The theatre itself – the auditorium and the backstage area – is, by some miracle, basically untouched. The fire doors did their job. They’re a bit warped, but once you go through them… The balcony got it pretty bad, that’ll need a complete refit. The seats and paintwork at the back of the dress circle are a little bit smoke damaged and some of the wiring in the AV room will need to be replaced, but the working part of the theatre needs minimum repair. If it wasn’t for the fact the outside looks so horrific, we could be back in business pretty much on schedule,” he said.

“Oh thank God,” Granny said emphatically.

“I mean, the auditorium is pretty much all that’s left,” Gold added. “But that’s the part that we need. As soon as we’ve got in touch with the insurers and got some money released we can get onto the scaffolders and make the entrance and bar into enclosed spaces again, even if they’re not fit for purpose. We can work around that.”

It might have seemed mercenary to be thinking in such terms already, only a few hours after the theatre had died, but in their circumstances, there was really not much time to sit in shock and dwell on their loss. In the crudest sense of the words, the show had to go on.

“Do you want to go up?” Gold asked the girls, indicating the doors into the box office. “The stairs up to the bar are stable but the ones up to the apartment are shot. The fire department fixed ladders, but I can’t get up them with my leg. Alice and Belle are up there already, seeing if anything can be rescued.”

Emma hung back, unsure if she wanted to go inside and see the place she had loved so much in such a sorry state, but Ruby and Granny went inside. Gold stayed outside with Emma; their breath was curling into mist in the cold morning air, but Emma knew that with the blown out windows and damaged roof, it would scarcely be warmer inside the building.

“I know exactly how you feel,” Gold said with a sigh. “I can’t bring myself to go in either; I went in the stage door.”

“It’s just been such a big part of my life,” Emma said. “I know I’ve only been here for a couple of months, but… it’s like it saved me.”

“As it did me,” Gold agreed. “And now it feels like we couldn’t do anything to save it, despite all it did for us. But ultimately, Emma, the building is just that. It’s just a building, just a shell. It’s the people inside the building that really saved us, and they’re all still there, still alive and still fighting, and that’s what’s important. The building itself is where it all happened of course, and none of us would be here if it wasn’t for this magnificent place – and even if in ruin, she is still a magnificent lady. But ultimately, it is the people who have shaped our experiences here.”

He took a deep breath.

“Come on. Let’s go in together. I think it might provide you with some closure to see the auditorium and the stage, if nothing else.”

The main doors were still open from where Jefferson and Bae had shouldered them the previous night, and together, Emma and Gold went inside, making their way up the scorched marble steps, past the burned out box office, up to the bar area. There was barely anything left; with so much alcohol in the place it was natural that this had suffered the most damage. Looking up, Emma could see the sky above them, and it made her stomach turn to think that up until last night there had been two floors of rooms there. There was a large cordoned off space over the bar where furniture had fallen down through the burning floorboards, and she almost cried on seeing the kitchen table in a blackened and broken heap there. Gold pushed open one of the heavy fire doors that led into the auditorium and stepped inside, motioning for her to follow him. The difference was remarkable. The first row of seats were damaged and when she looked behind her, the back wall was blackened with bubbled and peeling paint, but other than that, the place looked just the same as it always did.

“I’m not a spiritual man,” Gold said, “but I’m beginning to think that there was some kind of divine intervention involved here. Regina sent Sidney here with the intention of destroying the theatre – whether figuratively or literally remains to be seen - and yet, the theatre itself survived despite the odds.”

The thought made Emma smile. The bar, the box office, the apartment; they were all peripherals to the theatre proper, and that had survived.

“Rum!”

Belle’s shout from above them jerked Emma out of her reverie and she followed Gold out of the auditorium back into the bar to see Belle making her way down the ladder from the upper levels; Alice and Ruby followed her down and Belle rushed over to Gold. Her face was dirty from the charred dust, and there were tear tracks down her cheeks, but she was smiling.

“Rum, look!”

She unzipped her jacket and there, like a rescued puppy, was Mr Ted. A little dirty and worse for wear, but unharmed.

“The mirror fell over onto him,” Belle explained, pulling the old toy out of her jacket and presenting him to Gold. “It must have protected him from the flames.”

“Oh Belle…”

Gold took the bear from her, wrapping his arms around her petite frame and slanting his mouth over hers. Emma didn’t think that she had ever seen Belle and Gold be so ostentatious in their affections towards each other; they were usually very discreet as a result of living in an environment shared with so many other people, but now they were kissing with a passionate desperation, as if they’d been separated for months. She turned away politely and thought about Mr Ted surviving against the odds. Throughout Gold’s life and throughout his and Belle’s time at the theatre, he had been something of a symbol, a mascot of courage in the face of adversity. Belle and Gold were facing yet more adversity and uncertainty in their lives, but if Mr Ted could survive, then Emma was confident that they would pull through as well. And if they could pull through, then surely she could as well.

“Hey, Emma.”

Ruby waved her over to the ladder, giving a wan smile. “I’m really sorry; there wasn’t really all that much worth saving in our room, just a few clothes that’ll need a couple of goes through the washer.” She held up a carrier bag and Emma glimpsed some grey-stained garments within.

“That’s ok.” It wasn’t as if she’d had all that many mementos to start with. Or all that many possessions at all, coming to think of it.

“Hang on.” Ruby rifled through the bag and held up something. It took Emma a moment to realise it was the little green sleepsuit she’d bought at the pharmacy all those weeks ago; no longer quite as green now. “Ok, perhaps it’s best if you don’t give it to the baby now, but I suppose that you can take it as a sign.” She bent down to speak to Emma’s stomach. “If you can get through this, little one, you can get through anything. And that reminds me – you need to call Cara asap. She’ll probably have fifty fits when she finds out what’s happened.”

“Probably? There’s no probably about it, Ruby Lucas!”

Emma turned to see Cara rushing up the stairs.

“I saw what happened on the news this morning and I’ve spent the last three hours trying desperately to find out where you were,” the midwife exclaimed. “Eventually I called Ashley in the hope that she might know. Come on, I know you probably don’t want to think about hospitals right now, and I know that the paramedics gave you the all clear last night, but I do want to check that you’re both unharmed for this ordeal. I’ve pulled a few strings and Dawn’s got us a room reserved.”

Emma nodded good-naturedly, and Ruby accompanied them down the stairs. She glanced back over her shoulder towards Belle and Gold, still locked in their embrace with Gold holding tightly onto the teddy bear.

Yes. They would survive this, however hard the road might be.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter Twenty**

**It’s a new year and there’s a new hope as the theatre rallies and rebuilds.**

There was nothing to be gained by staring at the ruins of  the theatre for much longer, once they had salvaged all they could, and so the family decamped back into the town to await the results of the forensic fire investigator’s report, which would tell them whether or not the fire had been an accident or indeed arson. Emma didn’t know what to believe. She hoped beyond hope that it had been an accident and that Regina and Sidney couldn’t be so cruel as to maliciously destroy their home, but at the same time, having seen how vicious they could be, she was not convinced. At least there was hope now. Even if their home was lost, the show could and would still go on.

Cara had driven Emma to and from the hospital and given her and the baby the all clear, and everyone had ended up back in Mary Margaret and David’s apartment. If she closed her eyes and just listened to the Christmas music on the radio and smelled the warm mince pies and Christmas cake, then Emma could almost believe that they were back on Christmas Day and none of this had happened, it was all a dream from a post-lunch doze and she’d wake up in a minute to find Mary Margaret offering her a turkey sandwich.

“We can always do New Year’s here,” Mary Margaret said presently, bringing Emma back to hard, cold reality. “I still think that we need to do something, not necessarily to celebrate, but to bring us all together, and show Regina and her cronies that despite everything that’s happened, she’s not beaten us yet.

“That’s all very well for you to say.” Ruby sighed. “Right now though, I feel like she has beaten us. What’s going to happen now? I mean, we can get the theatre back up and running, but Granny’s right, the insurance is going to be a nightmare.”

“Something will come through,” Mary Margaret said. “You’ll see. I suppose we see it more because we live in the town rather than in the theatre, we hear more than you do, but this has really shocked Storybrooke. Not just those of us who are involved in the theatre, but everyone else as well. You know how quickly news travels in this town and when they heard that Sidney had been involved… Everyone’s on our side, Ruby, even people who you wouldn’t expect, the ordinary people in the street. When I went out this morning, everyone was saying what a terrible tragedy it was.”

“Yeah, but are they saying that because they mean it, or because it’s the right thing to say in these circumstances?” Ruby pointed out. “It could be that they’re saying it to your face, but really they’re thinking good riddance.” She gave another long sigh, picking at the pastry star on top of a mince pie. “I suppose that I’ve been in this business long enough to have picked up a cynical streak.”

“We’ll make it through, love,” Granny said.

“I know we will. I know everyone keeps saying that, but until we can actually start doing something to get back on our feet I’m going to feel helpless and useless!”

“I know, pet.”

There was a knock at the door and David went to answer it; he returned a few minutes later with Graham and the fire investigator, who then went off into the kitchen to speak to Granny and Gold alone; they would need the cause of the fire for the insurance paperwork. As long as it could be proved that the theatre had done everything in its power to prevent a fire, and that, intent or accident, it was not their fault, then they would be fine.

No-one dared to speak during those long minutes that the four of them spent in the kitchen, and it was clear that everyone was doing their damnedest not to look like they were trying to listen in. Eventually, Gold and Granny emerged and Graham and the fire investigator took their leave.

“Well?” Belle hedged tentatively.

Granny took a deep breath.

“As far as the fire brigade can see, the fire was not intentional,” she said. “It was started from Sidney’s flashlight, not any kind of deliberate ignition. We’ll probably never know exactly what happened unless he tells us, but it looks like he knocked over some of the bottles of alcohol behind the bar when he was doing whatever it was that he broke in to do, and then managed to drop his flashlight, which broke and the heat from the bulb ignited the booze. Obviously, the bar’s a powder keg with a hot flame like that, and the theatre’s already old and flammable.” She paused. “The investigator’s confirmed that there was no negligence on our part so the insurance will be fine.”

There was a collective sigh of relief in the Nolans’ living room.

“I’m going back up there, I want to take another hard look at what needs to be repaired first to get us back in business. Anyone else is welcome to come along.”

Apart from Jefferson who was exhausted after a night of being prodded and poked in hospital, and Belle who couldn’t face seeing the place looking so desolate again, they all ended up going, perhaps out of the hope that talking about rebuilding would make them all feel a bit more positive about the whole thing.

Making their way back up the driveway to the theatre, Emma’s stomach flipped on seeing that there were two other people looking up at the blackened remains, two people whom she absolutely did not want to see anywhere near the place and especially not when it was in such a fragile state. Regina Mills was looking up at the theatre, and Fae Blue was with her.

“How _dare_ she?” Ruby hissed beside her. “After everything that she’s done, how dare she come here now! She has no right to be here!” Ruby’s hands were curled into fists and her shoulders were shaking with violent rage. Emma couldn’t blame her, she felt exactly the same way herself.

“Ruby, let us handle this,” Granny said sternly, and she glanced over her shoulder at Gold, who gave a slow, somewhat unsure nod.

“I’m right behind you, Dad,” Bae said softly. “We’re not going anywhere.”

“How can she stand there so calmly!” Ruby whispered angrily. “I’ll knock her damn block off!”

“Ruby!” Granny said. “Saying such things will not get us anywhere. We have never yet stooped to her level and I certainly do not intend for us to do so now.”

Ruby looked absolutely mutinous, her nostrils flaring, but she dutifully stayed back with Emma as Granny and Gold went over to Regina and Fae. Emma just listened to the two other women talking, wondering what they were saying. She knew that she wouldn’t like it, but at the same time she knew that she wouldn’t be able to just stand back and pretend not to listen, or try to block it out.

“I’m sure I can trust you to block the rebuild?” Fae was saying.

“You don’t need council permission to rebuild like for like after something like this has happened,” Regina replied. “I will not be blocking anything.”

“Madam Mayor, surely you understand our position here in the community. My colleagues and I will simply have no choice but to enter a petition to block the theatre being rebuilt.”

“I think your colleagues will have a losing battle on your hands, Fae.” Emma’s brow furrowed; Regina sounded almost defeated. “I can’t think of anyone in the town who will stand with you considering what has been lost here.”

There was silence for a moment.

“I don’t see what has been lost,” Fae said mildly. “In fact, I see this as a great opportunity for us. How long has the council been trying to close the theatre and get rid of this… undesirable place? Now’s your chance.”

Regina gave Fae an incredulous look that was mirrored by the theatre family, still out of sight and mind just watching the two women talk.

“Fae, ten people nearly died in this accident.”

Fae shrugged. “Yes, but they did not.”

“And that makes it all right?” Regina shook her head and looked up at the theatre again.

“I’m merely saying that the Lord works in ways that we cannot hope to understand and the punishments he dispenses are always just.”

“Seriously?” Ruby screamed, and Fae and the mayor turned to the group standing behind them in the drive. “Seriously, you think that this was some kind of smiting from above? You seriously think that we deserve all this pain? What have we ever done to you? How could be possibly have earned this devastation?”

Fae just looked at the group coolly.

“I believe you already know the answer to that question.” She looked at Gold.

“And you call yourself devoutly religious,” Granny said. “There is nothing noble or righteous in taking advantage of others’ misfortunes, Miss Blue. Now, as ruined as my home is, it is still mine, and you’re not welcome here.”

Gold’s face was pinched and white as he gave a grim nod.

“Leave,” he snapped.

Fae looked at each of the gathered members of the family in turn, and with a sanctimonious smile, she walked with measured steps away from the theatre.

Regina let out a long breath before addressing Gold.

“Mr Gold, please believe me when I say that I am sorry for your loss and that I did not intend for any of this to happen,” she said. “I certainly did not intend to endanger your lives or the theatre itself.”

“Intent is meaningless,” Gold said. “I don’t care what you intended. Intent or not, this has happened.”

“And I am very sorry that it has happened.”

They fell into silence for a while until Granny spoke again.

“You know, Mayor, I think it says a lot about the relationship you have with the theatre that our immediate reaction to our home burning down is to believe that you were responsible for setting it alight in an effort to hound us out. Perhaps you ought to think about that.”

Regina nodded. “I know. But when I wanted the theatre to be gone, I never fathomed that it would be like this.”

“It’s too late now,” Gold snarled gruffly. “You can show as much remorse as you like after the fact, when there’s nothing you can do about it but offer your sympathy and say how terrible it is that something like this has happened in your town. It’s easy now, when you can hide behind all your pretty words and pretend you mean it and feel righteous because you’re on our side now, united against this terrible accident that’s befallen us.”

“Mr Gold,” Regina began, but Gold shook his head.

“There is nothing you have to say to me that I want to hear,” he said coolly, and he walked away with purpose, Bae putting an arm around his father’s shoulders as they meandered away from the theatre. It was the longest speech that Emma had ever heard Gold give to the Mayor, indeed, the longest interaction they’d ever had, and she knew how much courage it must have taken him to stand up to her like that. For all his prickly demeanour he was a man who avoided confrontation - indeed the prickly demeanour was his way of warding off all possible confrontation - and Emma knew from his previous dealings with Regina that he was scared of the woman.

“Actions speak louder than words, Mayor,” Granny said, once Gold was out of sight down the driveway. “I’ve been around long enough to know that and I’ve been around long enough to know that your words are sincere, but your words right now are meaningless, your condolences will not rebuild this theatre and after everything you have done to us in the past, we do not want your sympathy and good will. It is not reassuring.” There is a long pause. “There is one thing that you can use your words for, though, Mayor,” Granny added. “Why was Sidney in the theatre last night? I’m not entirely sure he’s intelligent enough to think up this little breaking and entering scheme by himself.”

Regina sighed. “He was looking for the theatre’s ownership paperwork. I thought I might have found a legal loophole.”

“So you would have turned us out of our home whatever happened.” Granny raised an eyebrow. “I hope you see why your words and your presence here are not reassuring.”

“Yes,” Regina admitted.

It was such a comparatively small thing, just a single word, but it seemed to be a turning point. It was just a terrible shame that it had taken such an awful event for Regina to see just how petty and futile her endeavour was.

“I’ve never understood your vendetta,” Granny said. There was no censure in her voice, just simple inquiry. “You have the best interests of the town at heart, but the revenue we generate here, the income you receive by proxy from the tourism, and especially from the sailors… I have never understood why you would want to throw that away.”

Regina did not reply. Perhaps she was considering the answer herself.

At length, Emma turned away from the theatre and made her way back down the drive to Bae and Gold, who were leaning on the beetle.

“We’re going to pick up Belle and go over to Newtown and get some new clothes,” Bae said. “Want to join us?”

Emma nodded, glad to be able to do something productive and take her mind off the theatre. She cast a glance back over her shoulder as she got into the car, and saw that Granny and Regina were talking again. She wondered what they could be discussing, but Granny didn’t appear to be looking angry. Maybe a new understanding had been reached, and the town was finally rallying together in the face of tragedy.

X

Whether it was by chance or design, they all returned to the Nolans to celebrate New Year’s Eve as Mary Margaret had suggested. It was a much more sombre mood than Christmas had been, and the fact Jefferson had his arm in a sling was a grim reminder of what had happened the previous night, but there was a spirit of hope in the atmosphere as other people dropped in and out, filling every available space in the flat and bringing drinks and snacks. It was not as impressive a party as one in the theatre would have been, but there was still friendship and conviviality, and in the end that was what mattered. Archie had popped in at about eleven o’clock and he and Ruby had vanished off somewhere in the flat, and no-one felt any desire to look for them. Ruby had lost so much, and if a few minutes uninterrupted time with her boyfriend was what she needed, then no-one was going to begrudge her it.

The TV was showing the New Year countdown and Emma, squashed in between Granny and Mulan, who’d also turned up bearing festive spirits in the most literal sense, crossed her fingers as the clock began to strike and everyone began wishing each other a happy new year and kissing whoever was nearest. It would be a better year, a happier year. She felt Granny kiss her cheek and put one arm around her in a hug.

“Happy New Year, Emma. And I guarantee that it will be a happy one.”

Emma nodded. “Yeah, it will be.”

Once the general expressions of the season had died down and the room was quiet again, Mary Margaret and Gold started singing Auld Lang Syne, Gold’s low voice singing the original Scots version at counterpoint to Mary’s clear soprano singing the English translation, and the effect was so beautiful that Emma was spellbound. It was obvious that this was a tradition in the theatre, and no-one spoke for a long time as the song came to a close. The voices were soothing, and Emma found herself slipping into a comfortable doze, tucked in to Granny’s side, warm and comfortable and contented in the breast of her family.

The first of January dawned frosty and cold, but bright, and Emma smiled as she looked out of Mary Margaret and David’s spare room window to see the sunlight glistening off the crisp white that was coating everything in sight. It made the place look clean and fresh, and it seemed right. The day before had been a mess of ash and dirt and fire damage, but the January frost had washed it all away, and it was time for a new start with a new year. They could rebuild; the insurance money would come through the next week and soon they could open their doors to the public again, even if without a bar or proper box office. Emma felt truly hopeful; not just because everyone else was telling her that they could get through this and they could rebuild; but because she honestly believed it herself, too.

There was a knock on the door.

“Come in,” she called, expecting Mary Margaret, but it was Ruby.

“Archie’s invited us for brunch at his place,” she said. “Don’t worry, Gold and Belle and Bae will be there too so you don’t need to feel like a third wheel.”

“Well, at least I’ll have Bae to join me in despair if you and Archie and Belle and Gold start making out over the bacon,” Emma said dryly.

“Emma, I thought you knew me well enough by now to know that I never let anything get in between me and my bacon. Not even Archie, and I would let Archie get between me and a lot of things.”

“A mattress, for example?” Emma asked with a giggle. “I mean, you did disappear with him for a long time yesterday evening.”

“Emma!” Ruby exclaimed. “Nothing like that happened! We were just talking. Archie had an idea for helping out the theatre and we were discussing it.”

Emma just raised an eyebrow but made no further comment, and Ruby sighed.

“Ok, so there was maybe some kissing in between the discussion, but all clothes remained firmly on and there was no inappropriate touching!”

“Hey, I’m not judging,” Emma said. She patted her abdomen. “I’m not really in any position to, am I?”

Ruby left the room and Emma got up, wondering at what the day might hold, wondering where the theatre’s other residents had ended up. There were more than enough people around the town who were willing to take them in; she was sure they would have found roofs somewhere, but she had been so tired once the new year had been rung in that she hadn’t protested when Mary Margaret had steered her into bed and she’d been asleep before she’d thought to ask about where everyone else would be staying.

Bae, it appeared, when she emerged into the living room, had stayed over at Mary Margaret and David’s as well, having not made it further than their sofa, which he was sprawled over. Some kind soul had seen fit to give him a pillow and throw blanket, and he rolled off the sofa and onto the floor with a thump as Emma came in.

“Happy New Year,” he mumbled. “Bacon.”

Emma just snorted, but within a few minutes Bae was compos mentis again and they were making their way through the town to Archie’s place. The psychiatrist welcomed them with a warm smile and the smell of cooking bacon, and they made themselves at home in his kitchen, helping themselves to toast and waiting for Belle and Gold to arrive. Archie’s laptop was open on the side and Ruby, who was slicing tomatoes beside him to help out, leaned over and took a peek at the screen when he’d left the room. Her eyes widened to saucers and her jaw dropped.

“Ruby?” Bae hedged. “Everything ok?”

“Hey, Emma, Bae, take a look at this.”

Ruby swung the laptop around to her and Emma looked at the webpage. It was a Youcaring donation page, and she could see that Archie had been the one to set it up.

_Please help us rebuild the Maison Rouge._

_If you live in or around Storybrooke, or if you have ever visited, you will know the Maison Rouge, the magnificent Victorian theatre on the hill. Not only was it a beloved entertainment venue, it was also a family’s home._

_On 30 th December, the theatre’s front of house, but more importantly, the apartment where the family lived, were destroyed in a fire that resulted after a burglary attempt._

_Whilst the insurance covers the loss of income for a short period, it is not enough to rebuild this wonderful building to its former splendour, and the Friends of Maison Rouge are asking for donations to help restore the theatre. If you can’t donate, please spread awareness._

_Maison Rouge has come through so much adversity in its time and has been a beacon of hope and love for so many souls. Please help us save it, and please help us give this family back their home._

The page had already made over a hundred pounds; Archie wasn’t messing about with getting the message out there.

“Ruby,” Emma said faintly, “I think you might just have the best boyfriend in the entire world.”

Ruby grinned. “I know. He is pretty amazing, isn’t he?”

Over by the door, Archie had gone very red, the tone of his skin clashing adorably with his hair, and Emma smiled.

It was going to be a great year. 


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter folks! Thank you so much to everyone who's stuck with this fic over the years. :-)

**Epilogue**

**Five months later**

The new flat above the bar was practically unrecognisable from the place it had once been before the fire. It was the last part to be renovated; with the bar and the box office necessary to the day to day running of the theatre they were naturally first in line. The bathroom, Granny and Gold and Belle’s rooms were in the same place as before, but Ruby’s room had been knocked out to create a large open plan kitchen and living room area. The place that had been the Milliners’ little garret above was now three small bedrooms and a separate bath that would be inhabited by Emma, Ruby, and Henry if Emma was still at the theatre when he required his own room. Jefferson had decided that it was time to make use of the little money he and Alice had been saving and they had moved out into their own flat. As much as Grace was sad to no longer be living in the theatre, Emma knew that her parents were relieved that she could have some semblance of normality in her life again.

It had taken a while for the theatre to be restored to its former glory, even with all the donations from the people around the town and on the Internet who had contributed to Archie’s funding page. They had done a lot of the work themselves, and since their priority had been getting the shows started again so that they could reclaim income, they had very little time in which to work on the building.  Now though, it was all but finished and the family was back in residence. Emma had spent the last few months living in Mary Margaret and David’s spare room, and although she had never felt unwelcome there, the theatre had always felt more like home to her, and since they would finally be welcoming their own adopted child in a month or so, they would need the space. Granny and Ruby had managed to use the insurance money to rent a little place for the duration; and Belle and Gold had stayed with Marina and Bob, which had been very entertaining considering Bob’s veganism and Marina’s attempts to smuggle sausages into the house.

The only melancholy thing in Emma’s opinion was Bae’s absence. He had hung around for a few months whilst the details of the insurance were being worked out and the theatre needed his support, but come April he had left them again, itchy feet getting the better of him, and Emma was sad to see him go. They had become such good friends during their time together over Christmas, and she’d thought that perhaps they’d had the potential to be more than friends.

Emma had lived in her new room in the newly refurbished _Maison Rouge_ for all of one week, two days, three hours, thirty-six minutes and twenty-three seconds before Henry decided that he wanted in on the action. She had finally got everything sorted for the imminent arrival the previous evening, and her waters broke at half past three in the afternoon in the kitchen, whilst she was attempting to make herself a fried egg and bacon sandwich to satisfy a particularly strong craving. Thankfully, it was a Thursday and there was no performance to worry about. However, to make matters worse, the only other people in the theatre were three men.

In their defence, Gold and David, who were putting the finishing touches to the lighting in what would be Henry’s room, were perfectly calm about the whole thing. Emma had never known David be unsettled by anything and Gold was no stranger to women in labour having witnessed the birth of his own child, and they quietly took charge of the situation, something for which Emma was extremely grateful considering the reaction of the third member of the present company. Philip, usually so sensible and stoic, was doing a very good impression of a headless chicken as the four of them congregated in the kitchen, brought together by Emma’s shriek.

“Shall I boil some water?” Philip asked, wringing his hands.

“Philip…”

“What about pillows?”

“Philip.”

“Towels! They always say you need lots of towels!”

“Philip!”

David, who was leaning on the fridge, raised an eyebrow as Gold guided Emma to one of the chairs at the kitchen table. She was too terrified of the prospect of childbirth to be embarrassed at the wet patch that was pooling beneath her.

“Just breathe, Emma,” he said. “Have you had any contractions?”

Emma took a deep breath to steady her nerves and shook her head. That was why her waters breaking had come as such a shock and caused such a torrent of profanity.

"So what should I do?" Philip asked, still wringing his hands. 

"Calm down for one," Gold said gruffly. "If you keep hopping about like that I've a mind to put you on the stage doing a tapdance act.” He focused his attention back on Emma. “Is your hospital bag packed?” he asked. Emma shook her head, she’d only just _un-_ packed. “I’ll put some things together for you.”

Emma shook her head, grabbing his hands. “Please don’t leave,” she said. He was being so good to her and she was so scared, and she didn’t want him to leave her alone even though she knew, practically, that David was perfectly sensible and could probably handle Philip.

“I can do it,” David said. “Just tell me what to pack.”

Gold pulled out his notebook and Emma made a quick list; once David left the room Philip gave a small squeak of fear.

“Right. Philip,” Gold began. “You can make yourself useful too and phone the maternity ward. The number’s by the phone in the bar. Ask for Cara Mallory, or if she’s not available, Dawn Stephens. Say that Emma Swan’s water has broken and ask if she should come to the hospital.”

Philip nodded. “Cara Mallory or Dawn Stephens. Right. Got it. Ok.” He stood still for a minute.

“Were you waiting for something in particular?” Gold asked politely.

“Erm, no.” Philip left the kitchen with slumped shoulders and Gold rolled his eyes.

“You were very restrained,” Emma said with a weak laugh.

“Well, I can’t judge too much,” Gold replied. “I was a wreck when Bae was born. It’s a miracle that the midwives didn’t sedate me too.” He patted her knee. “You’ll be fine. We’ll get you through it. Ruby will be there, I’m sure. She’s dying to be an auntie.” His brow furrowed. “Where _is_ she?”

Emma shrugged. Ruby and Granny had gone off early that morning in Archie’s car, citing some kind of secret mission that only they were privy to. Before she could think too much on it, however, she felt her first contraction pull through her abdomen, and she clenched all her muscles involuntarily, screwing her eyes tight shut. She felt Gold’s warm, rough hands come and cover her balled-up fists. When the pain passed she opened her eyes to find the older man’s fixed on the kitchen clock above her head.

“Over?” he asked. She nodded.

“Ok.” He made a note of the timings. “We’ll keep note now. Don’t worry, love. Remember everything that Cara told you.”

Emma nodded, trying to remember her midwife appointments and pre-natal classes that Granny and Ruby had steadfastly attended with her. In the midst of the panic of it actually happening, she was having trouble remembering her own name, let alone how to breathe through her contractions.

“Cara wants to know if your waters broke with a gush or a trickle?” Philip rushed into the room, the cordless phone cradled against his neck.

“Gush,” Emma managed. Philip relayed this into the phone and listened carefully before making a few noises of assent and closing the call.

“Cara says to go in. She’s getting a room ready now. She’s got a feeling that this might be a quick one.”

The words didn’t reassure Emma at all.

“All right then,” Gold said. “Let’s get you some dry clothes and go to the hospital.”

David came back into the kitchen with an overnight bag and a couple of pillows, and the stuffed penguin that Ruby had won for her friend at the fair a month prior. Gold appraised him of the latest developments, and that talked quietly for a couple of minutes.

“Emma,” David said, coming over and sitting in the seat that Gold had just vacated. “As it stands, Gold or I will come to the hospital with you; the other’s going to stay here and let everyone else know what’s going on and hold the fort.”

Emma risked a glance at Philip. In his current state she didn’t trust him to take charge either.

“We can’t really wait for Alice and Belle relying on the vagaries of public transport and we don’t know where Ruby and Granny have gone, but if you want another woman with you, we can call Mary Margaret or Astrid, or someone. None of them would mind.”

Emma shook her head. She was closest to Gold and David, and she trusted them to take care of her. Gold was practically family, and David had been keeping an eye on her ever since she’d had to move out of the theatre. She looked over at Gold, seeing how calm he was with her now compared to how skittish he had been all those months before when she had first come to the theatre.

“Will you come, please?” she asked.

Gold gave a twitch of a smile.

“Of course. Let’s get going. Philip, you’re with us.”

“Me?” Philip squeaked.

“I’ll need someone to drive,” Gold pointed out.

“Drive?” Philip repeated, his voice still the same falsetto.

“Unless you’d rather time Emma’s contractions and offer her various parts of your body to crush?” Gold asked mildly. “I’d rather not have to concentrate on both. Besides, she might need a strong, chivalrous young man to lean on.”

“Right…” Philip sounded as if he was going to faint, and Emma sniggered.

“Are you all right with that?” Gold asked her as he handed her off her chair and they left the room. “I can send him home again as soon as we get in.”

Emma shook her head.

“It’s ok, just as long as he doesn’t keel over. Mind you, he might wake up to find lots of pretty young midwives nursing him.”

Gold snorted, and waited outside her room whilst she changed her sodden leggings and knickers. She’d just managed to get herself decent again when another contraction started.

“Gold!”

He poked his head around the door and looked at his watch.

“Nine minutes,” he said. “Nothing imminent, don’t worry.”

Emma nodded. She knew she didn’t have anything to worry about yet, but all the same, she was still scared.

When the pain had passed, she stood up a little shakily and she and Gold made their way down to the little yellow VW. Philip was waiting with Emma’s baggage, and Gold handed him the keys with a raised eyebrow, a look that plainly said ‘one scratch and you’re dead’. David came out after them and gave her a hug.

“I’ve just started ringing round,” he said. “Ruby and Granny are going to meet you at the hospital. You’ll be great, don’t worry.”

Emma nodded and got into the car a little awkwardly. Gold put his arm around her in a friendly grip and she leaned against his shoulder. Everything was going to be fine. Her family would see her through.

X

Philip got them to the hospital without incident, and he seemed to have resigned himself to the role of bag carrier. Emma squeezed Gold’s free hand and he returned the pressure. If he and Belle ever had a baby together, Emma thought, Belle would be in excellent hands.

“Emma Swan,” she said to the receptionist of the maternity unit. “My midwife is Cara Mallory.”

“Ah yes, Cara told us to expect you. And this is?” she asked, looking Gold up and down and frowning at him. “Your birth partner is listed as a Mrs Diana Lucas.”

Emma felt a sudden surge of anger. Ok, so they weren’t a conventional family by any manner or means, but they were as close as any other.

“I’m…”

“He’s my father,” Emma snapped.

“Name?”

“Erm.” Emma stumbled. For all she’d been part of their lives for so long, she still didn’t actually know Gold’s name other than ‘Rum’, which she assumed, since only Belle used the moniker, was an injoke.

“Raymond Gold,” he said. “Mrs Lucas has been held up so I’ve brought Emma in instead.”

“Emma! There you are.”

Cara came down the corridor towards them, beaming, with Dawn trotting along behind her.

“Come with me, I’ve got a room all ready for you. Thank you, Imogen, I’ll take it from here.”

She plucked the papers form the receptionist’s hands and motioned for Emma to come with her.

“God, that woman’s a piece of work,” she muttered. “I’ve reported her twice but she’s still here. Honestly, the last thing an expectant mother in labour needs is the Spanish Inquisition about which kind soul brought her in.”

Emma wasn’t paying much attention to Cara’s words, and she looked at Gold.

“Raymond?” she said. “Seriously?”

“Where do you think ‘Rum’ comes from?” he asked with a little smile.

“I don’t know, I suppose… I’m pregnant and I won’t be for much longer, I’m allowed to be incredulous!”

“Of course you are.”

Philip put Emma’s bag down in the corner of the room.

“I’ll just… I’ll go and get a coffee,” he finished lamely.

“Thanks Philip,” Emma said. “You’re a hero.”

The young man’s chest puffed out in pride.

“I’ll show you the coffee machine!” Dawn said eagerly.

“That would be great.”

Emma would swear forever after that Dawn’s obvious interest made Philip turn bright red, and Philip would forever after deny it, but Emma knew a not-quite-love-but-certainly-attraction at first sight moment when she saw it, and this was one. The trainee and the unexpected chauffeur left the room together and Cara rolled her eyes.

“Well, that’s them out of the way. You get changed and get yourself comfy and I’ll come back in a couple of minutes and examine you.”

As they were unpacking from the bag - David had packed well - Emma looked over at Gold.

“Hmm. Raymond doesn’t suit you. I’m still going to call you Gold.”

“Well, everyone else does.” Gold sat down in the chair beside the bed and stretched out his leg. “Just let me know if I can do anything,”

“Just don’t go,” Emma pleaded. When she had first found out that she was pregnant, the idea of giving birth without a hand to hold was one of the most terrifying thoughts she’d had. Of course, she still had several other terrifying thoughts, but at least she knew that this one was not going to come to pass.

Cara returned and after an uncomfortable examination, proclaimed her four centimetres dilated.

“With any luck, you’ll be holding Henry before midnight,” she said cheerily.

“Midnight!” Emma exclaimed. “You said it was going to be quick!”

“Some women spend over two days in labour,” Gold mused. “Eight and a half hours is lightning speed compared to Bae. Seventeen hours ten minutes, and his mother almost dislocated my thumb.”

“On the other hand, you might speed up,” Cara said. “I had one lady once who went from first contraction to holding the baby in just over three hours. I’ll get you some pethidine for the pain and if you want any gas, just let me know. Now it’s just a waiting game, but at least it gives Granny and Ruby time to get here.”

Emma looked down at her bump angrily. “Will you hurry up in there?” she hissed to Henry. “You’re five days early so it’s obvious you’re in a hurry to get out, you can’t start hanging about now!”

Gold gave a snort of laughter and Emma glanced over at him.

“Never change, Emma,” he said.

“I’ll try not to.” She paused, and gave a laugh herself. “Sorry, I was just thinking about my first morning at the theatre and the second time we met, and you were only wearing a towel. And now here we are, seventh months later, and I’m the one not wearing underwear.”

Gold raised an eyebrow. “Yes, funny how these things come around.”

“We’ve come a long way since then.” Emma rubbed her stomach, grimacing as another contraction hit and grabbing Gold’s offered hand, not letting go until the pain had passed. “All of us,” she finished eventually. “You know, I’m seriously wondering how long Ruby will still be living in the theatre for. She and Archie have been going steady for a while now.”

“Yes. It’s good to see her spreading her wings,” Gold said. “The theatre means so much to her and it always will, but I think that Granny was beginning to get worried that it would consume her entire life and she would feel like she couldn’t move on.”

“Yeah.” Emma sighed. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“You can stay for as long as you want to,” Gold said. “You and Henry can stay forever if you want. Don’t feel that this is me trying to get rid of you, far from it. I just want you to know that you don’t have to feel indebted to us if you want to spread your own wings when the time comes.”

“I like living in the theatre. I’ve never felt safer than when I’m in there.”

Gold smiled. “That’s a sentiment I can well understand,” he said. “I hope that you continue to feel safe here.”

Emma nodded. “Yeah. Henry’s going to love it.”

“We’ll have him running the spotlights before you know it. Philip can take him up the lighting gantries, he’ll be fine.”

“Provided Philip’s not fainted in the waiting room,” Emma pointed out.

“Oh, I don’t think we’ll need to worry about that.” Gold chuckled. “I think Dawn will be taking excellent care of him.”

“Indeed,” Cara said dryly. “Well, that would certainly be a story for their grandkids. So how did you meet? Well, we were in hospital after I fainted and hit my head on the coffee vending machine in the maternity unit and then ended up in A&E.”

“Yes, at least if he does inadvertently injure himself he’s in the best place,” Gold mused. The three of them in the room fell into silence for a while, Emma trying to anticipate her next contraction and using the time to count the ceiling tiles in the room.

“Well,” Cara said presently. “I’m glad that’s all come to a satisfying conclusion.”

She was holding up the copy of the Storybrooke local paper that she’d been perusing, and the headlines were showing the results of the mayoral election. Since coming under new editorship in the wake of Sidney’s incarceration, the paper had suddenly become a lot more sympathetic to the theatre and had started hosting adverts for the show free of charge.

“Yes, I think Kathryn’s up to the job,” Gold said. “She’s got a sensible head on her shoulders and she’s a friend to us without being too closely involved. A nice, happy balance.”

The town had rallied around the theatre now, and there was no longer the same stark divide between them that there had been encouraged by Regina and Fae. Although Regina had escaped prosecution for her part in the accident, the incident had cast enough of a cloud over her reputation that she had vanished from the town, giving up her post and leaving quietly. No-one had really realised that she had gone, until Kathryn had casually announced that she was running for mayor and Ruby had almost dropped the bar’s new ice bin on Granny’s foot in shock at the revelation.

Emma’s thoughts came full circle to Granny and Ruby. Where _were_ they? It was almost two hours since everything had kicked off, and if they didn’t get a move on then Emma was worried that they were going to be too late. Still staring at the ceiling, she wondered if she could try and doze off to save her strength for the hard part later, but then the contractions kept coming, putting paid to any chance of respite.

“Where’s Granny?” Emma gave an exclamation of frustration. Granny always gave the best back massages when Henry was being particularly trying, and she needed the older woman’s firm hands more than ever now. It wasn’t that Cara didn’t know what she was doing, far from it, but it just didn’t feel _right_.

“She’s on her way, love,” Gold said. It was supposed to be reassuring, she knew, but the fact that she had been on her way for so long and had still not arrived was beginning to worry her. Emma had visions of Archie’s car careening off the road and into the sea as he drove frantically to try and get Ruby and Granny to the hospital in time, and when she heard the wail of an ambulance siren outside she began to think that her terrible imaginings had come true.

“Breathe, Emma,” Cara said soothingly as the machine monitoring Henry’s heartrate spiked. “You’re making Henry worried.”

“I want Granny,” Emma mumbled. Cara smiled and squeezed her shoulder.

“I’ll go out and see if she’s in the waiting room. Maybe there’s been a mix-up, or the receptionist’s decided to be a pain in the posterior again. Gold’s still here to keep you company.”

Considering that Emma had not let go of his hand for the past twenty minutes, it wasn’t likely that he would be going anywhere fast, not that he could move all that fast at the best of times. Cara had only just stepped outside the room when Emma heard her voice exclaiming: “There you are! I was coming out on a search and rescue mission!”

The door opened again and Granny and Ruby rushed inside; Emma didn’t think that she’d ever been so relieved to see two other people in her life before, and she finally let go of Gold to accept Granny’s warm hug.

“I’m sorry love, the traffic’s been a nightmare. Still, we’re not too late, and I’m sure that Gold’s been taking good care of you.”

Emma nodded. “I’m not sure he has any feeling left in his hands though.”

“I’ve survived worse predicaments,” Gold said with a laugh.

There were a few minutes of kerfuffle as Ruby and Granny got themselves settled, Gold took his leave of them and went to see if he could prise Philip away from Dawn long enough to get the car keys, and Cara examined Emma again. Things were progressing steadily, and all they could do was wait.

X

Henry Swan came into the world at one minute to midnight on the last day of May, weighing in at seven pounds seven, with a hearty pair of lungs on him and a full head of hair, and Emma had not been able to stop crying with happiness for about half an hour afterwards.

It was the small hours of the morning; Ruby and Granny had gone to get some early breakfast in the cafeteria and Emma was enjoying some peace and quiet, exhausted but completely unable to sleep, unwilling to miss a moment with her son. Henry had been weighed and measured and cleaned up a bit, wearing a blue bobble hat on top of his shock of dark hair, and Emma didn’t think that she ever wanted to put him down again. He was hers, and he was absolutely perfect. Whilst she couldn’t give him everything that she’d never had, and she would probably never be in a position to, she knew that she could give him love, and that was a big step towards making up for her own childhood.

There was a knock on the door and Emma looked up from Henry’s face.

“Come in,” she called, expecting Cara to come around the door. Her jaw dropped when she saw who her visitor actually was.

“Bae?”

He nodded. “The one and only.”

“What are you doing here? Wait, no, that makes it sound like I’m not happy to see you, which I am. But I thought you’d gone to Peru?”

“I had. Then I realised that I didn’t actually want to be in South America any more, and where I actually wanted to be was, well, home. I missed everyone.” He paused. “I missed _you._ ”

Emma smiled. “I missed you too.”

There was a long silence, and then Emma realised that Bae was still waiting in the doorway, and she waved him over to sit beside her.

“How did you get here?” she asked.

“I drove. I swear, Philip did something weird to the gearstick when he brought you here, it almost came off in my hand.”

“No, I mean to Storybrooke,” Emma said. “None of us knew you were coming. Well, I don’t think your dad did. He’s not that great at hiding his enthusiasm when you come home.”

“No, he didn’t know. It was meant to be a surprise for him. Only Granny and Ruby and Archie knew. That was what they were doing this afternoon, coming to collect me from the airport.”

“They were acting a bit cagey when they came in,” Emma mused.

“Then, of course, this one decided to make an appearance and ruin my entrance.” Bae grinned and peered over at Henry. “He’s fantastic, Em.”

Emma beamed. “I know he is.”

They sat in companionable silence for a while, and then Emma spoke again.

“So, are you home for good now?” she asked tentatively.

Bae nodded. “Yep. I think it’s time to put some roots down, you know? Dad’s going to teach me to follow in his footsteps in the gantries. Showing me the ropes, literally.”

“I’ll bet he’s pleased.”

“He’s thrilled, won’t stop going on about it.”

They fell into silence again, and Bae leaned over as Henry opened his eyes with a huge yawn.

“Hey there,” he said. “Welcome to the family.” He touched Henry’s tiny palm and watched the little fingers grip automatically, and Bae shook Henry’s hand solemnly. “We’ll take good care of you, don’t worry. Especially your mum, she’s amazing and really brave.”

He looked up at Emma.

“Do you really mean that?” she asked, a lump in her throat.

Bae nodded. “Of course.”

“Bae…” Emma began, not quite sure where she was going to go from there. “You’re really staying for good, right? You’re not going to get cabin fever and take off again in October, or whatever?”

“I’m ready to stay put now,” Bae said. “I think I was ready before, but I needed to go away again to be absolutely sure that I wanted to stay, you know? But now I know. I’m sure. I’ve definitely got something I want to stick around for.”

Emma didn’t even need to ask if she was the thing he was sticking around for; it was written all over Bae’s earnest face.

“I really missed you,” he said. “And not in the same way that I miss the rest of the family when I travel.”

Emma smiled. “Well, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Neither am I.”

Henry gurgled, as if to add his sentiments to the conversation, and Emma looked down at him.

“You know that Henry’s not going anywhere either,” she warned.

“I wasn’t expecting him to,” Bae replied firmly. “Like I said. He’s part of the family. _Your_ family.”

Emma smiled. In the space of just a few short months she’d gone from having no family to having more family than she knew what to do with, and she wouldn’t change it for the world.

She wasn’t really sure who initiated the kiss, but both she and Bae were grinning like idiots when they broke away.

Life wasn’t going to be plain sailing - Emma had experienced enough in her nineteen years to know that - but she had Bae, and she had the rest of the family, and moreover she had Henry. The _Maison Rouge_ ’s walls were sturdy and would endure for as long as they were needed, protecting those who sought its sanctuary. She would be all right in the end.

She was home.


End file.
